Just Human
by Jill2
Summary: Angel comes back to Buffy. Won HALO-award/winter 2002 for "Best Future".
1. Prologue: We Wish You A Merry Christmas

FIC: Just Human   
Author: Jill   
Rating: PG-13 (for now)   
Category: Drama/Angst/Romance/Future   
Disclaimer: no, still don't own them, so don't sue   
Pairing: B/A (eventually), B/R, C/We, A/X, W/T, G/?, others   
Distribution: my site eventually, Land of Denial, Sunlight & Shadow, if you   
have any of my stories, just take it; anybody else, just tell me where it   
goes.   
Spoilers: the whole B/A-cannon up to the end of Season 5/2   
Summary: set 20 years into the future - more would give the whole story   
away   
Feedback: would be treasured!   
Dedication: to my American friend Sheila who gave birth to her baby on   
September 11th and called her Hope.   
  
Note 1: First of all. This is no Riley-bashing fic. In fact, Riley's going   
to be a good guy in this, although he isn't really there. (Read the story to   
understand.)   
  
Note 2: Dawn died instead of Buffy in "The Gift"   
  
  
PROLOGUE: WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS   
  
Christmas 2001   
  
The streets in L.A. were busy tonight, Angel thought as he made his way   
through the masses of people who were rushing in and out of stores,   
undoubtedly trying to buy something for friends or family at the very last   
minute.   
  
It wasn't the first time Angel had gone through Christmas. He had to laugh   
at such a ridiculous thought. There weren't a lot of people around, or   
rather non-people, who'd lived through more Christmasses than he. Yet, there   
weren't a lot of people around either whose Christmasses were more lonely.   
  
But he liked lonely. Cordelia had approached him a week ago, mumbling   
something about Christmas with friends, but he had declined with a little   
smile and told her that Christmas and vampires didn't mix. She'd frowned at   
that but accepted it, while Wesley had given Angel a knowing look behind her   
back, but hadn't interfered.   
  
As a result Angel would spend this evening on his own in the Hyperion Hotel   
or maybe stake one or two vampires. They seemed rather bloodthirsty at this   
time of the year. He could remember 150 years ago when he and Darla ... His   
thoughts came to a screeching halt. No he wouldn't go there. Not tonight.   
Tonight he had a mission to fulfill.   
  
His fingers tightened on the letter he was holding in his hand. It was the   
most painful mission of his life without doubt. But it was a mission of love   
and underneath the pain he could feel the satisfaction that he might be able   
to do right to a person he'd done so wrong and his mind was wandering back   
to a phone call he'd received a week ago.   
  
He'd just come back from slaying a particularly nasty demon when Willow had   
called from Sunnydale. She sounded rather desperate and after some fumbling   
with words she'd finally blurted out that Buffy was in pretty bad shape, had   
been ever since Dawn died. The Sunnydale crew was doing their best but so   
far without much success.   
  
Buffy was doing her duty, but other than that she was pretty much a zombie.   
They had tried talking to her, had dragged her out, Giles had even sent her   
to New Orleans for two weeks lying to her about a vampire problem there,   
just to get her out of Sunnydale, but nothing worked.   
  
Angel and Willow had quickly agreed that it wouldn't be good for anyone if   
he came to Sunnydale. There was still no way he and Buffy could be together   
and if anything his presence and unavoidable departure would only cause more   
pain. And so after replacing the receiver on the cradle, Angel had started   
thinking. Brooding, as Cordelia had called it. 'You are wearing Buffy-face'   
she had accused him, hands on her hips, but he had just sent her away, not   
willing to explain what was bothering him.   
  
Two nights later he had driven to Sunnydale and seen her. Without letting   
her see him of course. He'd been careful to stay out of her sensing-range   
and as far as he could say she hadn't felt him this time. But he had seen   
her and what he'd seen made his heart ache and his soul heavy. What Willow   
had told him was right. She was like a zombie. She was a slayer who did her   
duty and nothing else.   
  
Returning to L.A. the brooding had intensified, and tonight, alone in the   
Hyperion hotel, he finally came to what he hoped was the right decision.   
  
He clutched the letter in his hand a little bit tighter. He knew that   
sending the letter would most likely make him lose Buffy forever, but then   
he'd accepted the fact long ago. He loved her, more than he had ever   
imagined being able to love someone and more than anything he wanted her to   
have a life, to be happy. He wanted her to be happy with him, laugh with   
him, have his children, but of course this wasn't an option. If anything he   
could be her friend. From a distance. She knew it too and she accepted it.   
The day in the cemetery at her mother's grave, when she'd told him he'd   
better leave because she was too needy, there he'd known that she   
understood. And accepted it.   
  
If you love a person you want that person to be happy, his mother told him   
so many years ago and he hadn't understood then. He did now. He wanted her   
to have all her dreams fulfilled.   
  
Angel almost went past the mailbox, but stopped and turned, standing before   
it, the letter in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand and let   
it fall through the slit. It fell on the ground and with it did Angel's   
heart. This was the end and he knew it. Tonight he was saying goodbye to all   
his secret dreams of a future filled with sunlight, laughter and the face of   
a blond girl who had given him the reason to go on.   
  
Blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes he made his way back to the   
hotel walked straight into his room and sat down on his bed. A shaky hand   
reached out for a book and when he opened it a picture fell into his lap. He   
picked it up, and smiled, tracing the perfect features of the young, blond   
woman with a gentle fingertip. Finally he breathed a kiss on it and closed   
his eyes, "I love you," he whispered. "Be happy."   
  
... to be continued 


	2. Chapter One: Older, But Wiser?

Just Human, Chapter 1: Older. But Wiser?   
  
20 years later   
  
Buffy had never seen ghosts in the 40 years of her life. Of course that   
wasn't entirely true. She had seen ghosts, lots of them actually, but   
somehow none of them had ever left a profound impression, and ten years   
after she had slayed her last demon, after the council had let her retire at   
the age of 30, they had somehow slipped her memory.   
  
But now when the image of her mother materialized in her living room, Buffy   
found herself gasping in surprise and - she had to admit - in shock. The   
image of Joyce Summers, her ghost, or whatever that thing was she saw,   
looked at her daughter for a long while, then she tilted her head and smiled   
sadly, "You're pathetic, Buffy Summers," she said, "and you know it."   
  
It wasn't the wisest thing to get drunk on your 40th birthday, Buffy thought   
as she refilled her glass yet again. You could start seeing ghosts. Even a   
ghost that looked shockingly like her mother. Her mother who was dead for   
almost 20 years now. But then she wasn't really drunk, she told herself.   
Just trying to get into a good mood. It was her birthday after all and she   
was entitled to have a good time tonight.   
  
Squinting a the TV she leaned back in her chair, the glass of Bourbon in her   
hand, and studying its contents she thought what she was going to do with   
herself for the 40 odd years she statistically expect to continue living.   
  
Twenty years ago she would've gone out slaying some vampires or decapitating   
demons, but as there was no Hellmouth anymore in Sunnydale and she had lost   
her slayer powers ten years ago there wasn't a lot she could do, but wallow   
in self-pity.   
  
Or talk to ghosts. "Shut up," she hissed at her mother. "What do you know?"   
  
"More than you think," Joyce replied, still smiling. It was a smile Buffy   
had never seen on her mother's face before. It was a knowing smile. The   
smile of a person who understood and wouldn't be deceived.   
  
"Oh yeah?" Buffy said sarcastically, "You never knew anything. It took you   
two years to realize what was going on with me and even then you only knew   
because I told you."   
  
"You shouldn't be drinking, Buffy," Joyce said mildly, ignoring her   
daughter's biting comment. "You're an alcoholic, and you know it. You gave   
up on life. There's no excuse for that."   
  
Of course Buffy didn't believe her mother. She felt absolutely   
self-righteous in her misery, the pig's sty that had once been her treasured   
apartment, and the one she'd been living in for 19 years. Eighteen of them   
together with her husband.   
  
Taking a large gulp from her glass she stood and stumbled over to the desk   
in the corner where a bunch of pictures were standing in sliver frames. She   
lifted her glass and toasted to them, then smiled ironically. They were   
smiling. Why the hell did they dare to smile when there was absolutely   
nothing to smile about? Life wasn't nice and fun, it was bad, very, very   
bad.   
  
"What do you know?" she asked the materialization of her mother again, "You   
never lost your husband to a fatal illness. You just divorced him." Of   
course Buffy knew the accusation wasn't fair. The marriage of her parents   
hadn't worked because her father had been married to his work instead of his   
wife. But nobody was fair these day, so why should she, start. Life wasn't   
fair.   
  
Emptying the glass with the next gulp, she turned away from the smiling   
faces of her husband and her three children. Her children. A harsh laugh   
came from her throat and she stumbled back to the table and refilled the   
glass yet again.   
  
Her children. Three of them. And all of them living with strangers. No, she   
corrected herself and drank again, not strangers. They were her so-called   
friends. Some friends they were. One morning they had stood on her doorstep   
and told her - mind that - just told her that her children would live with   
them from now on. That there was no way they would be watch it any longer,   
the way she was neglecting them, and herself.   
  
Gulping the rest of the liquor down, she angrily shook her head. She wasn't   
neglecting herself or her children. Okay, so the living room hadn't been   
dusted since... well, for a while, there was not one clean plate in the   
kitchen and in the fridge were some unidentifiable cultures growing, but all   
in all her life was in control.   
  
All right, she had lost her job three weeks ago because she has shown up at   
odd times if at all, but her boss had hated her forever and just waited for   
an opportunity to get rid of her. And besides, she wasn't the only American   
citizen who was out a job. There were a lot more and she would find a new   
one. As soon as she could find the energy to shower and dress and maybe do   
the laundry first, because frankly she had no idea if there was any clean   
clothes left.   
  
Okay, maybe she had been neglecting herself. Just a little. But wasn't one   
entitled for some misery if your husband of 18 years just fell victim to an   
extremely fatal form of leukemia. If you were making love to your husband   
one week and the next you were spending it choosing a grave and the right   
music for the funeral. In Buffy's book that gave you the right for a lot of   
things. And that was exactly what she was doing. A lot of things. Like   
drinking, and drinking, and drinking a bit more. But she was feeling good   
when she was drunk, and she wanted to feel good. Especially on her birthday.   
  
She was 40 years old, an ex-slayer, widowed, with three kids, and about 40   
years in front of her. Forty years full of emptiness. A sob tore from her   
throat and she realized that she would need at least another bottle if she   
wanted to make it through the night. She couldn't allow herself to think, to   
let the fears rise, or she would crack. She'd been so close to a nervous   
breakdown but thanks to her friends Whiskey, Bourbon and others she had   
found a way to cope.   
  
With a pained cry she suddenly threw the glass towards the pictures on the   
little table, but it missed and smashed against the wall. "Why did you die?"   
she cried, staring at Riley's smiling face. "Why did you have to die and   
leave me? You bastard. You promised me forever and then you left and what am   
I going to do now?"   
  
"He would be very angry if he could hear you now," Joyce scolded her gently.   
"He loved you, you know. Very much in fact."   
  
"Oh yeah?" Buffy whirled around, glaring at her mother. "Loved me, huh? But   
he left me. You did too," a sob formed in he throat and she forced it down,   
"And Dawn. Everyone leaves me."   
  
Stumbling towards the kitchen she noticed that there were no glasses left in   
the cupboard and so she took a mug instead. Not a bad choice. It was nice   
and big and a lot would fit into it. No need to refill often. Returning to   
the living room she stared at the picture again. Why did they all leave her?   
Why did everyone she loved die? Her mother, her sister, Riley. Would it   
never stop? Was she doomed to lose everyone she loved?   
  
"Yes, everyone," Joyce agreed, "Even Angel."   
  
At that Buffy froze. She hadn't allowed herself to think about him for a   
very long time. She didn't even know where he was living or if he was alive   
at all. Then she shook her head at the absurdity of her thought. Of course   
he was alive. He was a vampire after all and they were immortal.   
  
And what on earth was wrong with her mother to bring up Angel? Hadn't Joyce   
been the one who hated Angel the most? Who had blamed him for all the bad   
things that had happened in her daughter's life?   
  
"Yes, I know. I misjudged him by a lot. And I'm very sorry about that. At   
the time I thought it was the best for him to leave." She sighed and rubbed   
her forehead with one hand, "Looking back, maybe it would've been better if   
he'd stayed. At least a while longer."   
  
Buffy shot her mother an irritated glance, "Are you reading minds now?"   
  
"Well, the form of my existence is... special. Words or thoughts are the   
same here."   
  
"Oh, this is great," her daughter threw her hands in the air. "Now nothing   
is safe from you anymore. Not even my private thoughts."   
  
She tried desperately to suppress thinking about Angel, not with the ghost   
of her mother around, reading her thoughts. But the images wouldn't stop   
coming. It was as if the mention of his name had opened floodgates.   
  
It had to be the date, Buffy decided. Her birthday. Today 23 years ago, they   
had made love. The first and only time with Angel. It had been heaven and   
then hell. God, she could still remember his hands on hers, could remember   
the way he had kissed her neck, her breasts, her whole body. She had made   
love uncountable times with Riley over the last 19 years - and before - but   
try as she might, she couldn't remember the details. Maybe because it had   
become too familiar, maybe because...   
  
NO, she refused to go there tonight. She had loved Riley. Had loved his   
laughter, his smile, and his uncomplicated way to enjoy life. She had   
enjoyed being around him, had enjoyed having children with him. It had been   
a good time and she wanted it back. Wanted to see him laugh again, wanted   
him to tell a joke, wanted him to make her laugh. But of course it wouldn't   
happen. Damn him. Why did he have to die six months ago and leave her?   
  
"Because that's what happens," her mother said wisely, "Birth and death are   
part of it. It's a circle," now an odd smile played around her lips, "Our   
whole life moves in circles. You just have to keep your eyes open, and not   
shut life out."   
  
"Really?" Buffy hissed bitingly, "And what sort of life is there for me? I'm   
forty years old. I have three kids who don't want to have anything to do   
with me. My friends are avoiding me. Nobody understands what I'm going   
through. There's nothing for me out there anymore."   
  
Joyce sighed heavily, "I see. One night won't do. You're a difficult case,   
Buffy Summers. But we will get you back on track. Just trust me."   
  
The image of her mother faded and Buffy shook her head in disbelief. She had   
to be drunker than she'd originally thought. She had actually spent a good   
part of her birthday talking to a ghost. Shaking her head again, she let out   
a harsh laugh. Trying to see the label of the bottle standing on her desk,   
she decided it wasn't really important what she was drinking, as long as it   
made her feel good. And that was how she felt. Good. Definitely good.   
  
... to be continued 


	3. Chapter Two: A Cup of Coffee With An Old...

JUST HUMAN, Chapter 2: A Cup of Coffee with an Old Friend   
  
Willow Rosenberg had never particularly liked L.A. Not that she hated it, no   
not at all. But it had never been one of her favorite cities. She had no   
idea why she couldn't help it. But if you had children there came the time   
when Sunnydale wasn't big enough anymore. They wanted things they couldn't   
get at home and so Willow and Tara had finally given in and taken their and   
Buffy's children to L.A.   
  
And there she was now, strolling along rows of shops, not really interested,   
but glad nevertheless that Tara had taken the kids and given her an hour of   
her own. Willow felt a little tired these days. The checkup with the doctor   
had indicated nothing but at the age of 40, she mused, you were entitled to   
feel tired from time to time. Especially if you took care not only of your   
own children, but of Buffy's as well, one of them being a very stubborn,   
very exhausting teenager with an attitude and a lot of anger stored inside.   
  
Willow sighed at the thought of Buffy. She had been fine after Riley's death   
and everyone had marveled how well she took it, but - as they knew now -   
that had been nothing but the initial shock holding her up. As soon as it   
had faded, Buffy had taken a turn to the worse. It had started with the   
occasional drink in the afternoon and had developed to a real problem that   
nobody seemed to know how to solve. Not Willow, not Xander, not Giles and   
certainly not Buffy, who had disappeared somewhere on the way.   
  
They tried to talk to her, make her see that it couldn't go on like that,   
but she'd slipped more and more and in the end Willow and Xander had gone   
and taken her children. They talked to a social worker before and she had   
agreed that Buffy's children could stay with them - for the time being. What   
would happen if Buffy couldn't manage to get back on track - Willow didn't   
even want to think about it.   
  
The redhead was so deep in thoughts that she only noticed the other person   
when she bumped right into her. "Oh, sorry," she apologized startled.   
  
"You should be sorry," came an annoyed voice back, "these are my favorite   
Italian-" then the person gasped, "Willow? Oh my God. Willow!"   
  
"C- Cordelia!" Willow was surprised to see the former cheerleader standing   
right in front of her. "My God, Cordelia Chase. The last person I would   
expect to run into. What are you doing in L.A.?"   
  
"Shopping of course," Cordelia replied, smiling, "And living here. We moved   
back to L.A. four weeks ago."   
  
"We?" Willow raised an interested brow.   
  
"Yes, Wesley and I," the brunette explained. She lifted her hand and showed   
the redhead the gold band on her third finger, "He and I are married."   
  
"Married!" Willow couldn't help the shocked sound of her voice. Cordelia and   
Wesley were married. Oh my God!   
  
"Yes, married," Cordelia grinned, "We've been married for nine years now."   
  
"Nine Years!"   
  
"Willow you should be careful. Someone might mistake you for a parrot," the   
brunette teased. "But I can understand the surprise. To tell the truth, it   
surprised the hell out of me too. I never would've expected to end up with   
Wesley. Anyways. What are you doing? Do you have time for a cup of coffee?   
We could sit down and talk about all the things we've missed."   
  
Still a bit stunned, Willow nodded and only a minute later found herself   
sitting opposite Cordelia and waiting for the coffee they had ordered. "I   
think I need to digest the news," the redhead said when she saw Cordelia   
looking at her expectantly. "You and Wesley," she shook her head, then   
chuckled slightly. "But we should've guessed. You liked him from the start."   
  
"I did, didn't I," the brunette replied affectionately, thinking about her   
husband, "I really love him." Her whole face lit up when she said it.   
  
Cordelia was still incredibly beautiful, Willow thought. Her skin still   
flawless, and the hair shorter than usual but perfectly styled. "Do you have   
kids?" the redhead asked.   
  
"Yes," the brunette nodded, reaching into her purse, producing two pictures   
that showed two obviously Asian kids. "This is Michael," she pointed at a   
boy of about six years, "and this is Cathy. She's five. Michel's going to be   
seven, next week. And what you already noticed is that they're adopted."   
Putting the pictures away, she explained, "One year after we got married and   
tried to have a baby I had a checkup and the doctor found out that I   
couldn't have children. So we decided to adopt two. They come from Vietnam."   
  
"I see," Willow smiled, seeing Cordelia suddenly in a new light. Not in a   
million years she would've expected the former cheerleader to adopt Asian   
orphans. "They look great," she complimented, and then reached into her own   
pocket. "These are ours. Callie and Tiffany," she said. "They're nine."   
  
Cordelia studied the pictures, then looked thoughtfully at Willow, "So I   
suppose your... uh... relationship with... what was her name... Sarah? It   
didn't last?"   
  
"Oh, but it did," the redhead replied with a wistful smile, "We're still   
happy together and her name's Tara."   
  
"Oh, you adopted them as well," the brunette exclaimed, smiling too.   
  
"No, we didn't. We were artificially inseminated. Both of us. Welcome to the   
21st century, Cordelia," Willow said grinning at the other woman's   
expression. "Tara and I are even married. Not the ordinary way, but through   
a wiccan ceremony. It was great."   
  
"And the others?" Cordelia asked, not really wanting to discuss the subject.   
"How's Xander? And Buffy?"   
  
At the mention of Buffy Willow's smile faded, "Xander's fine, she said. He's   
still married to Anya. They have five children."   
  
"Five!" Cordelia exclaimed incredulously. "Oh my God, Xander times five."   
  
They laughed at that, then the redhead continued, "They're nice kids   
actually. Two girls and three boys. The girls are twins. Giles is back in   
Sunnydale. He was in England for a while but it seems he realized he lost   
his roots there and so he came back. Now he's writing a book about demons   
and stuff," she grinned, "he can't help it. It's in his blood, I think."   
  
There was a short pause while the waitress served their coffees. Sipping at   
her cup, Cordelia eyed Willow over the rim. "And Buffy? Still happy with   
Riley?"   
  
"Riley died."   
  
The brunette was glad that the cup didn't slip from her hand. She was so   
stunned by the news that she had problems to putting it down, her hands were   
trembling so much. "When?" she asked, her voice sounding odd even to her   
ears.   
  
"Six months ago," Willow replied, wondering about Cordelia's reaction. "He   
had Leukemia. He was dead within six days. It was... hard. Especially for   
Buffy. And for her kids of course."   
  
"Yeah," Cordelia nodded, glad that 40 years of life experience had taught   
her not to show her feelings. "She had two, didn't she?"   
  
"Three," the redhead corrected. "Joyce is 17, Ben is 10 and Marlie is just   
five. They are... living with Tara and I at the moment," she added.   
  
"With you?"   
  
"Yeah," Willow said on a released breath, glad that she was able to talk   
about this. "Buffy... she... well, she doesn't get along. She started   
drinking. It's bad. Really, really bad. Finally we had to take the kids.   
She... wasn't looking after them."   
  
Cordelia's lower lip dropped, "What?"   
  
The redhead nodded, "Oh Cordelia, it's horrible. We tried everything, but   
Buffy blocks us out. She insists there isn't a problem. But you wouldn't   
recognize her. It's... I can't even begin to describe it." Willow sipped at   
her coffee and then she asked the question she had wanted to ask from the   
moment she had recovered from the shock of seeing Cordelia Chase in L.A.   
"How is... Angel?"   
  
"He's fine," Cordelia replied quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly. "He's still   
in Washington," she added, "We were there for 10 years. After the hellmouth   
in Sunnydale was closed, the vampires moved away from L.A. and suddenly a   
problem occurred in D.C. So we moved there. And it was good. Especially for   
Angel."   
  
She didn't elaborate on the last statement, but Willow understood   
nevertheless. It had been hard for Angel to see Buffy happily married to   
Riley, to watch them having children together. They hadn't seen each other   
very often, and when they met Angel always managed to keep a blank   
expression, the one he had brought to perfection in two hundred and a half   
centuries, but nobody was fooled that he was hurting inside. "So that's where   
you went to. We always wondered," Willow acknowledged.   
  
And they had wondered. After the hellmouth in Sunnydale was closed, Angel   
informed Giles that he would move the agency away. He hadn't said where and   
Giles hadn't asked, sensing that the vampire didn't want to be found. "So   
Angel's fine, huh?" Willow asked.   
  
"He is," Cordelia confirmed. "We had a lot of work up there. But it was...   
satisfying and it paid a whole lot better than it did in L.A. We made good   
money in Washington. We even worked for the government from time to time."   
  
The redhead nodded at that and in silence they drank their coffee for a   
while, each of them digesting the news. It was the brunette who finally   
broke the silence, "So Buffy's in pretty bad shape."   
  
"No," Willow shook her head.   
  
"But I thought-"   
  
"Yes, yes," the redhead made a dismissive gesture, "I know what I said. And   
yes, she is drinking and all. But besides that, physically, she couldn't be   
better." Willow sighed, "Actually, if it wasn't for the drinking thing, I'd   
envy her. She's in perfect condition. She's 40, but looks thirty. The doctor   
says she's even got the body of a thirty year old. Giles thinks it has   
something to do with her having been the slayer."   
  
Cordelia absentmindedly rubbed her aching back, "Physically like 30, huh?"   
she said, laughing slightly, "Well, that's a reason to be jealous."   
  
"Oh, come on," Willow laughed too, "You don't look 40 either. Not at all.   
You don't even have one gray hair."   
  
The brunette's eyes sparkled at that, "I just have a good hairdresser,   
Willow. You can't be honestly think that this," she ran a hand over her   
hair, "is all nature."   
  
"No, I suppose not," the redhead sighed.   
  
"And it's not what I meant. On the outside I might look younger, but my back   
aches, and my knees crack when I get up in the morning." Seeing Willow grin,   
Cordelia nodded, "I see, you know what I'm talking about. So yeah, I would   
give anything to be 30 again." Suddenly she remembered something, "Oh crap,"   
she looked at her watch. "I almost forgot I have to meet Wesley. We wanted   
to choose a bedroom today. Furniture, you know." She waved for the waitress   
to pay the coffee, then reached into her purse again, "Here take my card.   
Call me."   
  
Willow nodded, "I will. And thanks for the coffee," she said when they both   
stood up. "I'm living in my parents' old house and Buffy is living in an   
apartment close to her mother's former house. She didn't want to live there   
after Joyce and Dawn died."   
  
"I see," Cordelia replied, a world of meaning in those two words.   
  
"Yeah," the redhead nodded, "And tell Angel we miss him too."   
  
A long look passed between the two women, "I will," the brunette said.   
  
"Yes, do that," Willow retorted. "And don't wait too long."   
  
"I won't," Cordelia promised and smiled. "I'm sure he'll be interested to   
hear the news. He's got some of his own."   
  
"He has?"   
  
"Yes, but it's for him to tell you."   
  
"So he'll come back too?"   
  
"He might," Cordelia gave Willow another smile.   
  
"I would be glad," the redhead replied, smiling too now.   
  
"I'll tell him that. I really have to run now. See you later."   
  
"Yes, see you too." But Willow was saying those words to herself. Cordelia   
had already left. But maybe, she thought, she'd just found the answer for her   
prayers.   
  
****   
  
Spike had made it a habit to drink a cup of coffee with Buffy once a month.   
It had started shortly after the hellmouth had been closed and he seemed to   
be the only vampire who didn't have the urge to leave the place since it   
didn't hold any appeal for evil anymore.   
  
Why he didn't want to leave, he didn't know. He was long over his   
infatuation with the blond slayer, so that wasn't the reason. The watcher   
had suggested it had something to do with Spike having been too close to   
humanity for too long, that this had changed his evil nature into something   
softer. Of course the vampire resented that theory and privately entertained   
the thought that part of the fun was getting back at Riley who still hated   
his guts and didn't like his wife having coffee with a hostile. Even more   
the blond ex-commando hated the idea that his children could be fond of Spike.   
  
So the vampire kept coming once a month. They talked about times when they   
were still out all night, hunting and staking vampires and saving the world.   
It was fun and Spike found himself looking forward to those monthly meetings   
and strange as it might sound over the years they had developed some sort of   
twisted friendship, the ex-slayer, saver of the world, the epitome of good,   
and the evil, still chip-headed, vampire.   
  
When Riley had become ill and died within a week, Spike had expected to   
welcome the news. He had never liked Riley, never understood what the slayer   
found in the loser, but had wisely kept his mouth shut. And even if he   
didn't understand it, the slayer seemed not unhappy with the ex-commando who   
had become a successful psychiatrist in Sunnydale.   
  
So Spike had expected to be happy seeing his most hated person gone for   
good, but somehow he didn't. And he knew the reason for his lack of joy was   
Buffy and the kids who had managed to get to him. Especially the little one   
he found himself drawn to. Marlie was a little doll with her blond locks and   
her curious hazel eyes. Maybe it was her resemblance to her mother, Spike   
found so intriguing.   
  
Ben was always a bit distant to him and Spike suspected it was due to the   
fact that the boy was a little bit jealous of the time Buffy spent with the   
vampire. Joyce on the other hand was outright hostile. He wasn't sure why,   
but he guessed it had something to do with Riley. She had already been seven   
years old when the hellmouth was closed for good and most likely the most   
sensible to the hostility between her father and Spike. As a result she had   
taken an instant dislike towards the vampire.   
  
"You know," Buffy was saying beside him, "if you were coming to say nothing   
the whole evening, you should've just stayed away."   
  
"Well, what do you want me to say, pet?" he asked, glancing at the glass of   
Brandy she had refilled yet another time, while he was sipping at his   
coffee.   
  
"Something, anything," she replied, her voice already slightly slurred.   
  
"Okay, then," he pushed himself off and stood, then walked over to the   
window. Slowly he turned and looked into her eyes, "I want to know what   
you're trying to do here?"   
  
"What the hell do you mean?" she asked, a certain edge in her voice. She   
held his eyes for a moment, then lowered her lashes and reached for her   
glass.   
  
"That," he replied and pointed at the liquor. "If you want my opinion, it's   
just pathetic."   
  
"Oh, great, now I have two telling me the same nonsense," she muttered and   
took a large gulp. "Yeah, well," she said out loud, "If I wanted your   
opinion, wonderful-one-without-faults, I'd ask. I can clearly remember a   
very drunken vampire who was pathetically whining for Dru when she left him.   
Besides, I'm not drunk. I just need a bit of help to get into a good mood."   
  
"Happens a lot these days, from why I hear," Spike retorted, crossing his   
arms in front of his chest. "Has this something to do with the fact that you   
tried to get back to your precious husband by hopping into the sack with me?   
Feeling guilty after all those years?"   
  
That finally penetrated the wall he had felt she'd been building the whole   
afternoon. Her head came up with a jerk, her eyes narrowed and her eyes   
glittered dangerously through the slits, "Watch it, chip-boy," she hissed.   
  
"Oh, I'm shivering with fear," he mocked, "You're human, Slayer. You can hit   
me if you want, but I doubt it'll hurt a lot."   
  
"I didn't 'hop' in the sack with you, as you called it." She spoke very   
slowly, her voice low and warning.   
  
"But you wanted to. Don't tell me you didn't want to have some excitement   
that night. Do you feel guilty for it now? You, the mother of two   
children by then, married to Riley, the good guy, and you had to urge to   
jump the bones of an evil vamp."   
  
A low sound escaped her mouth and she stood abruptly. Swaying slightly   
because of the amount of alcohol she'd already taken in, she turned away   
from him. Why did he have to do that, she wondered? Why did he have to come   
and remind her of her one lapse in judgment? Of course, she didn't need to   
ask herself. Friend or not, he was still an evil vampire. "No I didn't even   
want to," she said in the same slow manner, "It just... happened."   
  
"Oh yeah? Baby, you were so hot, we would've done it hadn't Red walked in on   
us. There would've been no stopping us. Certainly not from you."   
  
"You're disgusting," Buffy replied, turning around to face him again.   
"Disgusting and evil."   
  
He shrugged, "Sure, I'm evil. No news here. Besides, calling me evil is   
hardly insulting. It's a compliment these days. The watcher thinks I'm a   
softie. Now that's insulting for a vampire."   
  
"Good to know," she murmured.   
  
"Slayer, you have to stop that," he said again, returning to their first   
subject.   
  
"I'm not a slayer anymore," she said angrily. "You just said it yourself, I   
couldn't hurt you, even if I wanted."   
  
"Self-pity, is it?" he asked, uncrossing his arms and walking towards her.   
"Well, I'm going to call you Slayer as long as I like. You were the best.   
The only one I ever respected. Snap out of it. It can't go on like this."   
  
"And why not?" she shot back. "Because you say so?"   
  
"No, because you can't. Look at yourself. You look like shit. And you   
smell... When did you last wash your hair?"   
  
"None of your business," she snapped.   
  
"Just as well," he snapped back. "I'm not going to look at this mess any   
longer. Again, Slayer, snap out of it."   
  
He walked through the door and slammed it behind her, avoiding a glass she'd   
thrown his way. He left the apartment with a heavy heart and the feeling   
that he had no idea what he could do to help her. As much he hated to admit   
this to himself, there was probably only one person that would be able to   
help, but he didn't have the slightest idea where to find him.   
  
... to be continued 


	4. Chapter Three: Ex-slayer, SWF, seeking ....

Just Human, Chapter 3: Ex-slayer, SWF, seeking ... a life   
  
The sun was already high when Buffy woke after she slept through the night   
like a stone. It was one of the advantages of getting drunk. Oblivion came   
easily and you could avoid restless sleep and heavy thoughts.   
  
Yawning and ignoring the already familiar hangover headache Buffy staggered   
from her bed, then to the bathroom. Not bothering with her appearance she   
made her way to the kitchen for some coffee when the doorbell rang.   
  
Muttering something about people who didn't call before actually standing   
right in front of her door, and ignoring the fact that it was almost noon   
already, she padded barefooted towards the door, combing her greasy hair   
behind her ears. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered when the bell rang again. She   
blinked when she finally opened the door and her eyes fell on her best   
friend. Or rather, judging the expression on the redhead's face, her former   
best friend, "Willow?"   
  
"Yes, Willow," the witch narrowed her eyes at the blonde's appearance. "Why   
the hell," she shouted, "didn't you answer your phone last night?"   
  
Taken aback, Buffy let her enter her apartment, not caring for the total   
chaos, "Whoa," she tried to get her friend to calm down. "Last Night? The   
phone didn't ring last night."   
  
"Didn't ring?" Willow spat right into her face. "I tried calling you about   
twenty times until the thought entered my mind that you were probably too   
stone drunk to even register the ringing phone."   
  
"Now, wait a minute-"   
  
But the redhead didn't want to wait, she was angry, not scratch that, she was   
furious. Furious because she hadn't been able to reach Buffy when an   
emergency occurred, furious that a scared little girl had to go to a   
hospital without her mother, and also furious because her best friend was   
just slipping away, giving up, and there wasn't a damned thing Willow was   
able to do.   
  
"No, I'm not waiting a minute. Actually, I just came to deliver a message   
and after that you might as well go to hell." She was so angry, she didn't   
even try to calm down.   
  
"Willow-"   
  
"No, I don't want any excuses," the redhead raged on. "Marlie had to go to   
the hospital last night. They had to do an appendectomy on her. It was an   
emergency. Obviously she's had tummy aches for a while but didn't tell us   
because she said she wanted to tell her mommy but her mommy wasn't around."   
She paused, staring at Buffy, daring her to say one word.   
  
The blond didn't. She was too shocked to say anything. Her daughter was in   
the hospital. Precious, little Marlie, her sweetheart had been into surgery   
and she hadn't even known. Marlie had gone through a nightmare and there had   
been no mother for her. After she'd lost her father only six months ago, her   
mother wasn't there for her either.   
  
"I really had no idea what to say to her. So I just held her hand. And when   
she woke up the first thing she said was Mommy. But you know what, her mommy   
wasn't there. Because her mother is too busy destroying herself, and the   
tiny bit of love her children still have for her." Willow took a deep   
breath, her hands at her hips, her eyes blazing with anger, but she was a   
bit calmer now, that some of the fury inside of her had been left out.   
  
Buffy was searching for words, and as she found none that were appropriate   
to say, she simply asked, "Are you going back there now? To the hospital?"   
  
"Yes," the redhead replied. "I'm going back to her. She's five years old   
Buffy. Five years old and alone in a big hospital. Sure, the staff is nice   
and the nurse who cares for her is a sweetie, but Marlie doesn't know anyone   
there and she's terrified. She just lost her father. Her mother doesn't care   
a damn..." she took a deep breath again. No, she decided. She had said this   
to Buffy again and again and it never worked. There was really no sense in   
getting worked up over this. But she had been so angry to see Marlie's   
scared little face and hearing her ask for her mother...   
  
"I'm coming with you," Buffy was saying, already looking around for some   
clothes that weren't completely out of question.   
  
"No," Willow replied sharply, not caring when the blond stared at her as if   
she was speaking another language. "No, you aren't coming with me," she   
clarified. "I don't want you to come with me. Marlie doesn't need a mother   
who comes rushing to her side out of a momentary flash of guilt, only to   
abandon her in one or two days again. She doesn't need that emotional roller   
coaster. No. I just came to tell you."   
  
She looked around, taking in the scattered clothes everywhere, the two empty   
bottles of Whisky on the table, the layers of dust on every shelf, then   
shook her head, "If you can't take care of yourself, how are you supposed to   
take care of your children? I'm even going to tell you, you can't come to   
the hospital. Either you get your life back on track or you better stay away   
completely. The way you are at the moment, you're of no use for your   
children. You're just going to hurt them again."   
  
She turned and her hand was already on the door handle, when Buffy suddenly   
cried, "I just lost my husband, Willow. He was healthy and fine and a week   
later he was dead. Dead. Do you understand? He isn't just miraculously   
coming back tomorrow. He's dead."   
  
"Yeah, I know," the redhead turned around, her face sad, "We were around   
death a lot for a while if you remember. Death isn't unfamiliar to me. But   
you know what the real problem is, Buffy. Riley's dead and I know it's hard,   
but maybe you should start realizing that you're still alive." With a last   
long look she opened the door and was gone.   
  
*   
  
Buffy stared at the closed door for a long while. What the hell had happened   
to Willow? Shouting at her as if this was all her fault. Couldn't she see   
that life hadn't dealt her a fair hand? Oh sure, it was easy for Willow to   
yell at her and demand she should get her life back on track. Willow hadn't   
lost her husband to a fatal disease, she was still living her pretty, little   
suburban life with her equally happy lover and their nice, pretty girls.   
  
God, they were disgusting with their great happiness written allover their   
faces.   
  
"No, it's you who's disgusting here."   
  
Now, Buffy thought, she had completely lost it. She wasn't drunk now. Yes,   
she had a horrible hangover and a killer headache, but besides that, she was   
absolutely sober, but she could've sworn she had heard her mother's voice   
behind her. Maybe this was one of the final stages of being a drunk,   
complete with hallucinating, although people didn't usually get into those   
final stages after only six months. Or at least, she hoped they didn't.   
  
"No," she said firmly, "You are not here. I'm not hearing a ghost talking to   
me in bright sunlight."   
  
"No, of course not," her mother replied, and darn the woman, her voice held   
a trace of amusement. "Because if you did, you'd probably be crazy. Isn't   
that the explanation the inhabitants - including me - of Sunnydale have told   
themselves for years to deny all the things that went bump in the night? So   
why should you believe that you are talking with your mother's ghost?"   
  
"Oh, that's really great. Come on, throw more of my own words back at me,"   
Buffy hissed, turning around. And of course there she was. The   
materialization of Joyce Summers was right in her living-room,   
floating just inches above the carpet. The very dirty carpet. Oh God, this   
was a nightmare. Last night Buffy had been too drunk to care, but here, in   
broad daylight, it wasn't a nice thing to have the ghost of your mother in   
your apartment that was far from clean.   
  
"At least you still remember things. It's a relief, you know. To see that   
the alcohol hasn't melted your brains already."   
  
"You're so funny," the blond told her mother. "Did you take classes for   
making jokes up there, or what?"   
  
A laugh was her answer. "I always thought I had a good sense of humor.   
That's how I managed to deal with the fact that my daughter was facing death   
every night," she paused, her smile turning soft, "That, and the fact that I   
trusted you. I trust your strength, your will to survive. But now, you seem   
to have lost it. What happened to you, Buffy? Why did you give up?"   
  
"You know why. My husband died, after we spent almost 20 years together.   
Don't you think it's reason enough?"   
  
Joyce, or rather her ghost, sighed deeply, "It might be. For another woman.   
But not for you."   
  
"Why?" Buffy whirled around, glaring at her mother, "Because I was a slayer?   
Because I'm so strong and not entitled to fail. Newsflash Mom, I failed a   
lot. I couldn't get you back to life. Jenny Calendar died and I couldn't do   
a thing and Dawn," her voice broke and a sob tore from her throat. But she   
quickly had herself back in control. "So you see, I'm not some unfailing   
super-hero. Sorry, to disappoint you."   
  
"Yes," Joyce nodded, "I am disappointed. But not because people died. People   
die every day. I died because I was sick. Dawn died because it was her fate.   
She was doomed to die from the start. I know she felt real to us, by God,   
she felt very real to me, but the fact remains that she wasn't. Those monks   
made her for only one reason, so that you would protect the energy that was   
bound in that human body. And yes, it was a cruel twist of fate, but you   
couldn't have changed it."   
  
Buffy snorted at her mother's words and turned to start her coffee maker.   
She needed a cup of coffee now. Badly. And maybe, just maybe, the   
Joyce-ghost would go away then, noticing that she didn't want her here.   
  
But, of course, no such luck for Buffy. Joyce came soundlessly floating   
after her, materializing herself at the counter, and Buffy closed her eyes,   
knowing that there was more to come.   
  
"I'm disappointed because you're lying to yourself. I know Riley died and I   
do believe that you miss him, but it has got nothing to do with your undying   
love for him that night after night you try to drink yourself into stupor   
and try to forget all the lies you've been living with for over 20 years with   
it."   
  
The spoon Buffy had been holding clattered on the counter and with a whirl   
of her body she was facing her mother, advancing the ghost menacingly, "Shut   
up," she shouted. "How can you even dare-"   
  
"Are you angry now?" Joyce asked, interrupting her fury, "Do you want to   
beat me? Well, go on, try it." She seemed to think about something, and then   
said, "I've always wondered if it might hurt if someone hit me. So don't   
hold back. Hit!"   
  
Her daughter stared at her for a moment, then took a deep breath and   
straightened, "I'm not going to hit you. You're my mother." The moment the   
words were out of her mouth, she made a sound of disbelief and threw her   
hands in the air. "God, now I'm going insane. What am I talking about?   
You're a ghost. You're probably not even there. Did I actually refer to you   
as my mother?" She shook her head, picked up her spoon again and measured   
coffee for the percolator.   
  
Mrs. Summers sighed deeply, "And I thought we were over that part already.   
Yes, I'm dead and yes, I'm a ghost, but I'm here nevertheless and you of all   
people should be able to believe that. I'm certainly not the first ghost   
you've seen."   
  
"No, you're not," Buffy confirmed. "But you're - don't take this personally   
- but you're the most freaky one. Or what would you think if you met the   
ghost of your dead mother?"   
  
"Actually, I did meet her," Joyce replied cheerfully, "She's happy up here   
and has lost a lot of her-" the expression in her daughter's eyes brought   
her to an abrupt halt, "but of course you aren't interested in hearing that.   
Maybe later. Now your grand-mother is the least of your problems, I   
suppose."   
  
"You have no idea what my problems are," her daughter bit off. "You never   
did. You were the most oblivious person I ever met."   
  
"But of course I wasn't a ghost then," Joyce said wistfully. "As I already   
told you. For ghosts words and thoughts are the same. I know exactly what   
you're thinking," her voice softened, and became like the one Buffy   
remembered, the one that had tucked her into bed when she was little, "and   
for that, I also know that you need to face hard truths. And soon. Or you're   
going to lose everything that's important for you."   
  
For a moment Buffy contemplated shouting at her again, but this was her   
mother. And sure, they hadn't been always close, but a mother was the   
closest relative you had - besides children - and although the ghost-thing   
was definitely creepy, she thought, why not. She shut her eyes tightly for a   
second, and then looked at her mother, "And what, if I'm not able to face   
them?" she asked, her voice almost like that of a little girl.   
  
"You are," Joyce said, "You've always been strong. But you've been lying to   
yourself for so long, it's hard to break the habit. Believe me, I know. But   
you're young, and there's a whole life out there. Don't throw that away. I   
know, I'm not meant to tell you, but there's love out there for you. You   
just have to go and get it."   
  
"Love?" Buffy echoed incredulously, "Mom, I-"   
  
"No," her mother shook her head, "don't say it. First deal with yourself.   
Try it. Start today. Then take the next day and the day after that. Each day   
it will become a bit easier and in the end you'll be living again. Really   
living, not just existing."   
  
"What if I fail?" the younger blond asked. "What if I can't get back, or   
can't live with what I've done?"   
  
"Don't think about failure now, Buffy," Joyce said softly. "Just think about   
today. Try to get through today without a drink. I know it's hard. But you   
can do it." She took a deep breath, a cheerful smile on her face now, "I   
have to go now. This materialization thing is still not easy for me."   
  
"No, Mom," Buffy cried in sudden panic. "Please don't go. I'm not sure I can   
do this on my own."   
  
Silence was her only answer. She ran from the kitchen into the living room   
and frantically looked around, but there was no sign of her mother there.   
She went through the entire apartment, looked for her even in the closets.   
But like most things in her life these days, the search was a failure too.   
Joyce was gone.   
  
... to be continued 


	5. Chapter Four: Expect The Unexpected

Just Human, Chapter 4: Expect the Unexpected   
  
It was a pain in the ass to be seventeen. Of course the fact wasn't new to   
Joyce. She'd had the same thought for a while now. Six months to be exact.   
Ever since she'd become seventeen, two days after her father died.   
  
She had wondered why she couldn't just skip this last year and turn 18 instead.   
But that wasn't possible and so she had to live through this unnecessary   
year. And it was the result of not being eighteen that she had to live with   
Willow and Tara, their daughters and her own younger siblings instead of   
being able to have her own apartment.   
  
Of course there was her mother she could blame for it as well. If Buffy   
wouldn't wallow in self-pity and drink herself into some sort of stupor, she   
would be able to live with her mother. She was a pain in the ass too   
sometimes, but still better than the two lesbians who were always trying to   
talk to her. 'We should talk about this, Joyce' or 'I think we really need   
to discuss this' were their favorite quotes.   
  
And she hated it. God, how she hated being forced to talk about things. All   
she wanted was to be left alone and live her life. That wasn't much, was it?   
  
Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, she waved goodbye to her best   
friend Valerie and the very last moment she remembered that she had to turn   
right instead of left, again thanks due to her mother. And of course also to her   
father, who had just died and left them in this mess.   
  
She quickly blinked the threatening tears in her eyes away and frowned for a   
moment. She knew it wasn't fair to think that way. But she missed him, God,   
how she missed her father. His gentle and loving smile, his warm, forgiving   
eyes, the way he would touch her, the hours he'd spent listening to her, and   
she even remembered all the times he'd read stories, things she'd been too   
embarrassed to remember for a long time. And she would gladly, gladly,   
listen to every stupid story if it meant she'd have him back again.   
  
But of course he wouldn't come back. People didn't just come back from the   
dead and live again. Sure, there were a lot of creepy things happening in   
the world, she'd even seen some of them before she became seven years old,   
had even been forced to believe that vampires existed, but she was old   
enough to know that things didn't work that way.   
  
And now her mother was gone too. Of course, she wasn't really gone. Buffy   
was alive and well, but not really there anymore. A part of Joyce didn't   
blame her mother. The part that liked the fact that her mother was sick over   
her father's death, that her mother had loved her father so much that she   
wouldn't go on living without him. But another part also felt jealous,   
because that part wanted to be loved the same way her father had been loved.   
She was her mother's daughter for God's sake and she didn't like to see that   
her father was more to Buffy than her own children.   
  
She startled when she heard someone talking to her and she looked up   
and into the face of a stranger, who was gazing at her from his car. "Yes?"   
she asked.   
  
"Excuse me," he said, and smiled, and God, he had a killer smile. "I think   
I'm somewhat lost. I've been to Sunnydale years ago but there are so many   
new streets and houses and, well" he laughed a little and Joyce felt her   
knees go weak at that laugh, "I'm looking for Blueberry Lane. Do you know   
where it is?"   
  
"What? Oh, sure, Blueberry Lane. That's where I live too. You drive straight   
ahead and then turn at the second left. You can't miss it." She finished her   
description with her best beam. "Are you going to live there?" she asked.   
  
"No," he shook his head. "I'm going to see an old friend."   
  
"Oh," she nodded, trying not to sound too disappointed. "But maybe," she   
added, "you'll be staying for a while?"   
  
He flashed her another smile, "Maybe. It depends."   
  
He didn't elaborate that, but it was just as well. "Well, maybe we'll see   
each other again," she said hopefully.   
  
"Who knows," he replied with a noncommittal shrug. "Thanks for the help."   
  
"You're welcome," she said, but he was already driving away. "Oh Holy   
Jesus," Joyce breathed and fanned her face with her hand. Her palms were   
sweaty and her heart was racing a mile a minute, her knees transformed into   
jelly.   
  
"Who was that?"   
  
Joyce almost jumped out of skin at the sound of her best friend's voice.   
"Valerie," she almost shouted. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd   
gone home."   
  
"Jeez," Val shook her head, "Sorry. But I saw you talking to this extremely   
handsome guy in that very expensive car and forgive me that I just wanted to   
know who the hell my best friend was talking to."   
  
"It was nothing. He wanted to know how to find Blueberry Lane," the blond   
told her. Joyce had the same blond hair like her mother. But that was where   
the resemblance ended. Where Buffy was tiny, her daughter was tall. With   
five foot ten, Joyce was taller than most of the girls, and before her   
curves had begun to fill out she'd often been mistaken for a boy.   
  
To her size and the blond hair, she had her father's blue eyes and the shape   
of her face was a mixture of her parents. Valerie had even suggested, Joyce   
should think about becoming a model and although the idea flattered her, the   
blond had never contemplated it. She didn't like to be photographed and   
besides, she'd long decided that she wanted to be a doctor. And if she   
managed to keep her grades up, she would stick to it.   
  
"Oh sure," Valerie shot her an incredulous glance that turned to open shock   
when she realized that Joyce was telling the truth. "He really asked you   
directions." She sighed deeply. "What a bummer. You didn't, by chance, ask   
for his name?"   
  
"No," the blond replied, but a smile played around her lips. "But he said   
he'd visit a friend at Blueberry Lane. So what do you think are the chances   
that we might see him again?" And maybe, she thought, life didn't hate her   
that much after all.   
  
*****   
  
Buffy took a deep final breath and straightening her aching spine she   
scanned her apartment with satisfaction. It was done. She was tired, sweaty,   
and dirty and her bones were aching from all the cleaning, washing and   
dusting, but she had finally managed to get the apartment in a presentable   
state. There were clean clothes in her closets and drawers, and the   
underlying foul smell she hadn't even noticed for the last six months was   
almost gone.   
  
She had worked like a mule for the last 18 hours, right throughout the   
night, and was ready to drop from exhaustion, but she couldn't remember when   
she'd last felt so content with herself.   
  
Now all she needed to feel human again was a hot bubble bath, a good book   
and a drink and... Stopping her thoughts right there, she was too stunned to   
move for a second. She hadn't even been thinking about a drink for the last   
18 hours. She turned slowly and looked at the untouched bottle of Bourbon   
that was standing in the middle of her table. She'd found it under her sofa   
while cleaning the living room and remembered that she'd noticed it was   
missing a few days ago.   
  
God, but she wanted a drink right now. Now that all the work was done, the   
memories, the pain and the guilt would come back, now that there wasn't   
anything she could do anymore to stop herself from thinking.   
  
No, she decided, she wouldn't take a bath, she would just jump under the   
shower instead. Having come to that decision she tore her clothes from her   
body and when she emerged from her shower half an hour later, she felt like   
a human being again. She was wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, the one she'd   
just washed tonight and a clean towel enveloped her wet - and now clean -   
hair. She had needed to wash it four times. Thinking back on it, she still   
felt a slight shudder of disgust. God, she hadn't even noticed what was   
going on with her. She'd looked like a bag lady, not like Buffy Summers,   
ex-slayer and mother of three children.   
  
Buffy Finn, she reminded herself quickly with a little stab of guilt. Funny,   
how she never saw herself as Buffy Finn. It was just a name, but it was   
significant and one more of the hard truths she hadn't been able to face the   
last months. But no more. Her mother was right, or whatever that thing was,   
that looked, spoke and smiled like Joyce Summers. There would be no more   
running away from the truth. The shock of hearing about Marlie in the   
hospital still sat deep and even more did Willow's refusal to let Buffy come   
with her to see her own daughter.   
  
Food, she reminded herself, breaking away from that painful train of   
thoughts. She'd actually managed to order a pizza earlier and now she put it   
into the microwave to re-heat it. She'd wanted to cook but one look into her   
fridge had told her that there was nothing in it besides wine and beer.   
Buffy couldn't even remember the last time she'd eaten properly. There had   
been no need to buy food for Spike because, well, he didn't eat.   
  
A glimpse into the bathroom mirror had told her that she'd grown painfully   
thin, bony even, her face was hollow, and under her eyes she'd found dark   
shadows. She made a mental note to apply some makeup before she left the   
apartment to fill her fridge.   
  
Pulling the pizza from the microwave she poured herself a glass of water and   
was on her way to the sofa when the doorbell rang. Sighing she put plate and   
glass down and walked over to the door. She wasn't really dressed for   
visitors, but at least her apartment was clean now and compared to her   
yesterday appearance even being clothed in a bathrobe and towels was like   
wearing the crown jewels. Oh well, maybe it was Willow, she thought while   
she reached for the doorknob. Then she could see for herself that her friend   
was making an effort to get things back on track.   
  
With that thought firm in her mind, she pulled the door open and her heart   
stopped. Tightening her hold on the handle so that her knuckles went white,   
she managed only one word, "Angel."   
  
"Buffy," came his reply, and she had to grip the handle even tighter. His   
voice was so achingly familiar, and the way he said her name, almost   
breathless, a bit afraid, as if he could hardly believe she was really   
there.   
  
She felt her breath catch in her throat, felt her heart begin to hammer in   
her chest. "Oh God," was all she managed to say.   
  
A little half-smile appeared on his lips, and it propelled her right back in   
time. She remembered times and places when she'd seen that smile, had been   
dying to see it soften his much too somber features. Had marveled in the   
fact that she had been the cause for that smile sometimes. "No, still only   
an Angel," he said and instantly grimaced at his own bad joke. "Sorry, that   
wasn't really funny. Can I come in?"   
  
As if she was in trance, she stepped back to invite him in and watched him   
proceed towards the living room. He moved with the same fluidity, the same   
stealthy grace she remembered. He didn't look a day older than the last time   
they'd met. Of course she hadn't expected him to look older. He was a   
vampire after all. A vampire who moved into her living room, then stopped   
and turned towards her, sun shining right on his back.   
  
"Oh God," she said again and felt her body begin to tremble. "You don't   
burn," she remarked, staring at him. "You don't burn," she repeated in an   
incredulous whisper.   
  
He smiled then. Not the half-smile from before, but a full, all-teeth smile,   
a smile she had never seen before on him and it was breathtaking. "No, I   
don't. Only vampires burn, human beings don't."   
  
"Hum-" her voice died and her eyes rounded even more. "Oh my God." It was an   
almost painful moan, and she swayed on her feet for a moment, but when she   
saw him moving towards her, she held out her hand. "No, don't touch me."   
  
Angel felt as if she'd struck him, but she looked at if she'd been struck   
herself. As he watched she seemed to crumble. Her shoulders hunched, she   
curled her arms protectively around her own body and the trembling changed   
into a real shaking. "Oh my God," she moaned again.   
  
This went on for some minutes, but suddenly, her body underwent a transformation,   
her spine straightened, her arms loosened. She swallowed and blinked several   
times. "When?" she finally managed to ask.   
  
"Several months ago," he replied, keeping his distance. He wanted nothing   
more than to take her in his arms and hold her, but there was no way he   
could do that right now. He pointed at the bottles on the table, "I would   
vote for something to drink, but given the circumstances, I think it's   
better not." The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew it had been   
the wrong thing to say, but he couldn't take them back now.   
  
But Cordelia had told him about her meeting with Willow and when he'd called   
the redhead this morning she'd been so concerned, he hadn't been able to   
think about anything but Buffy's drinking problem the whole way from L.A. to   
Sunnydale. Well, that and the fact that Riley was dead. He had hardly been   
able to believe her, when Cordelia had given him the news.   
  
"What?" Her voice was sharp, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.   
  
"You're white as a sheet," he explained. "Usually you offer people something   
to drink to calm her nerves," he said, hoping against hope, she would forget   
about his lapse. But he saw her eyes narrow even more and sighed, "Okay, so   
Cordelia talked to Willow and then I talked to Willow and she was really   
concerned about you."   
  
"Oh, I see," her voice heavy with sarcasm, "And so you had to come and help   
the poor drunken Buffy. Well, I'm pleased to tell you that I haven't even   
touched a drink today."   
  
"That's good." His voice was soft. Incredibly soft. And warm. She had to   
close her eyes for a moment. How she had missed hearing that voice.   
  
Taking a deep breath, she looked back at him, "Why are you here? I mean it's   
a bit surprising. After all I haven't even heard from you for about ten   
years."   
  
He didn't look away, he didn't even try. In fact his eyes were locked with   
hers, when he said, "You know why I left." And of course she did. They had   
never talked about all this, but she had known nevertheless. "I heard about   
Riley," he continued. "I'm sorry."   
  
"Thank you," she replied stiffly, not wanting to go there, not ready to face   
this, her deepest, darkest guilt.   
  
"Willow told me it was quick. He didn't really suffer."   
  
"No," she slowly shook her head, "he didn't suffer. One morning he woke up   
with a fever and when it didn't go away he went to the doctor. Then to the   
hospital and he never came home again. It was over in four days." Her voice   
was flat and bare of emotion telling him about Riley. "But I'm not going to   
discuss my late husband with you."   
  
"It's not why I came," he replied gently. "I just," he shrugged, "wanted to   
see you, I guess."   
  
"Why?" she asked.   
  
"Why?" he echoed. Because I love you, because I never stopped loving you,   
because I'm human now and Riley's dead and we've got a chance now, if you   
give us one. Because I was desperate each single day without you. Because   
thinking about you and Riley together, having children, being happy, made me   
want to scream. But of course he couldn't tell her that. She had, after all,   
lived 20 years with Riley. She had three children with him and she had loved   
Riley. Maybe even more than she had loved him. She had told him so, she   
might have been angry then, but he'd believed her nevertheless. Buffy wasn't   
a person who used the word love lightly.   
  
"We were close once," he said instead. "And I thought, maybe you could use   
my help."   
  
"Your help?" She shook her head, the towel loosening and falling down. Her   
still wet hair cascaded down. It was shorter than he remembered, but still   
long and Angel wanted to touch it. Wanted to burry his face in it and inhale   
her scent. God, he had missed her. Her next words, however, shattered any hope   
that this was going to happen somewhere in the near future, "I don't need your   
help, Angel. I managed without you very well. There is no need for you to play my   
savior. Take your humanity and whatever there is, and go. If you came for me, you   
came in vain."   
  
"Buffy, I-"   
  
"No. Leave. Now." She was holding up barely and no way she would break down   
in front of him.   
  
"I'll be staying in Sunnydale for a while," he said then, reaching into his   
pocket. "If you want to talk or just see me, give me a call." He put a   
little business card on her table. "I would like to met your children. And   
I'm not just going away. If you don't call, I'll be back in a couple days.   
You won't get rid of me that easily."   
  
His voice was gentle, but there was a subtle warning in it. And she knew it   
then. He meant it. He wouldn't just leave. He wouldn't let her hide from   
terrible, dark truths. And more than anything she feared the truth. And   
coming face to face with her own weakness.   
  
She heard the door close behind him and with a last glance at his card on   
the table, she sunk down on the floor and cried.   
  
... to be continued 


	6. Chapter Five: Are You Still My Friend?

Just Human; Chapter 5: ARE YOU STILL MY FRIEND?   
  
Buffy felt like crap the next morning - physically. She had cried until well   
after midnight and then fell asleep right on the living room floor, where   
she'd found herself in the morning. Her hair was standing up all in   
different directions so that she had to wash it again. It was just as well.   
After the neglect of the last six months it could use another styling.   
  
But she felt better than she had in a long time too - mentally. Yesterday after   
she'd cleaned her apartment she had thought she felt good, but today after   
all her misery, grief and guilt had broken through, initiated by Angel's   
visit, she felt somehow lighter. She hadn't allowed herself to cry in a long   
time, and now she realized how wrong this was.   
  
In fear of breaking down the moment she let her emotions surface she had   
drowned them in alcohol. Feeling numb had been better than feeling pain. And   
she felt that pain last night. It had been pouring out of her with each   
tear, with every sob and that adding to the exhaustion she'd already been   
feeling from all the cleaning and washing had let her fall into a dreamless   
sleep. For the first time since Riley died there had been no nightmares.   
  
She stepped from the shower, again wrapped in fluffy towel and bathrobe, and   
her eyes darted to the still untouched bottle of liquor on the table. She   
still hadn't touched it. Two and a half days and she hadn't touched it. She   
licked her dry lips, trying to find a taste for it. And failed.   
  
She didn't even try to stop the gasp that came from her lips. It was like a   
lightening shock. A good shock, but still a shock. Two and a half days and   
she still had absolutely no urge to drink. She shook her head in disbelief.   
She was hungry though, and thanks to Angel and the emotional turmoil his   
visit brought she'd completely forgotten about food.   
  
Pulling the towel from her hair she walked back into the bathroom to comb   
and dry it. She headed to the bedroom to search through her drawers and   
closets for clothes only to realize that nothing fit anymore. She'd grown so   
thin that even the trousers that had been bought to fit tight only eight   
months ago were hanging loosely. Oh well, it had to do since there was   
nothing else she could wear. To prevent the pants from slipping down she   
used a leather belt she found in Joyce's room. Wasn't the baggy look   
fashionable anyway?   
  
She even found her purse after a quick search and stuffing her keys into her   
pocket she left the house, and smiled at the California morning sun. She had   
really missed it and also remembered the shocking lack of tan on her face   
this morning. She had decided to see Willow - and talk to her, maybe even to   
her children. It was Saturday and they would be at home. Well, Joyce and Ben   
would. Marlie was probably still in the hospital.   
  
At the thought of her youngest child, Buffy experienced a sharp pang of   
guilt. The picture of Marlie lying alone and frightened in a hospital bed   
hadn't let go ever since Willow had told her about it. Buffy took a deep   
breath. It was something she couldn't change. She couldn't turn back time   
and change the fact that she'd been a horrible mother to her child. All she   
could do was try to make up for it.   
  
Reaching Willow's house she took a deep breath to steady herself, but her   
fingers were still trembling as she reached for the bell. She heard loud   
footsteps running towards the door and then she was looking into her   
daughter's smiling face.   
  
"Hi, Joyce."   
  
The moment the girl realized it was her mother standing in front of her, her   
smile was replaced by a sarcastic smirk, "Mom?" she raised a questioning   
brow while her eyes ran inquiringly over her mother's form, "What happened?   
Did you run out of money for booze?"   
  
Buffy swallowed an angry retort. She would accomplish nothing by shouting at   
her daughter. Joyce was angry, and up to a certain extent she even had a   
right to be. So Buffy's voice was calm when she said, "I'd like to come in   
to talk to Willow and Tara if that's possible."   
  
Joyce shrugged, "Sure. It's not *my* home," she said emphasizing the word   
my. "But Tara left an hour ago with the brats, so it's just Willow and me."   
  
"Joyce, who are you talking to?" came Willow's voice from the inside.   
  
The girl sighed, "Well, come in then." She stepped back and her mother moved   
past her towards the living room.   
  
Buffy saw Willow's eyes widen at the sight of her, "Buffy?" the redhead   
asked in utter shock.   
  
"Hi, Will," the blond replied with a sheepish smile.   
  
"If you need me, I'm in my room," Joyce said from behind them and was   
already running up the stairs.   
  
The redhead wanted to call her back, but Buffy held up a hand, "No, let her   
go. She's angry right now and I suppose it's partly my fault. I   
came to talk to you, anyway."   
  
Willow eyed her friend a long moment, and then raised a brow, "So?"   
  
The blond laughed self-consciously, then combed a hand through her hair,   
"Well, I guess the best start would be to say I'm sorry although that   
doesn't begin to cover it. But maybe it's a start?" she asked, anxiously   
waiting for Willow's reaction.   
  
The redhead bit her lower lip as if considering her words, and then nodded,   
"Alright. Go on."   
  
"I know I... behaved terribly the last months, but..." she stopped, shook   
her head, then started again, "No, there are no buts, no excuses. I behaved   
terribly. Period."   
  
"I couldn't agree more," Willow said dryly and crossed her arms. "But why   
are you telling me that, Buffy? Is there a point to all your...   
self-knowledge?"   
  
Now it was for Buffy to chew her lower lip, "Angel came to see me   
yesterday."   
  
"Oh," the redhead raised her second brow. "I see."   
  
"No, you don't," the ex-slayer replied, then shook her head, "or maybe you   
do. I don't know. He said he talked to you in the morning."   
  
Willow nodded, "He called. I met Cordelia a few days ago. We were talking   
and she mentioned Angel. They've been in Washington the last ten years," she   
laughed suddenly, "she's married to Wesley, can you imagine?" Buffy had to   
shake her head and laugh as well. But the redhead sobered instantly, "I told   
her to give Angel my love, but his phone call yesterday took me by surprise.   
I hoped he would call, but I hadn't expected it so soon."   
  
"It took me by surprise as well, believe me." Buffy shook her head again and   
frowned. "Willow do you believe in ghosts?" she asked suddenly.   
  
At that the redhead grinned, "You're talking to a witch. I think that's a   
rather unnecessary question. Besides, you were a slayer. Of course I believe   
in ghosts. They are real. Most people just deny their existence. Why?"   
  
The blond took a deep breath, "Maybe I should start at the beginning. I got   
drunk on my birthday," she started and when she saw Willow raise a brow she   
sighed, "yeah, I know. Nothing new there. But then I... uh... saw my   
mother's ghost."   
  
Willow did a double take, "You what?"   
  
"Uh-huh," Buffy nodded on another sigh, "That's exactly what I thought. And,   
of course, that I was so drunk that I just saw a hallucination. We talked.   
The ghost and I. The next morning I forgot about it. My mother... the   
ghost... she attacked me, not physically, but she accused me of letting go,   
of giving up. Anyway. In the morning it was forgotten.   
  
"Then Spike came for his monthly cup of coffee. I was already half drunk   
when he arrived and he shouted at me too. When he left I drank even more and   
woke in the morning with a killer-headache. Then you came."   
  
"And shouted at you," Willow said with a half-grin, slowly understanding   
where this was going.   
  
"Yeah, and shouted at me," Buffy agreed, "But the difference was, I was   
sober when you came. And I felt bad. For a moment I felt bad because of   
Marlie, but I turned around and there was that self-pity again, that life   
was unfair, you know. And then my mother... her ghost... returned."   
  
"You saw her twice?" the redhead asked, curiosity rising in her.   
  
"Yeah," the blond confirmed, "And she told me some things I didn't want to   
hear. At first I tried to ignore her, but that didn't work. So I listened. I   
think for the first time in six months - or rather in years - I listened to   
things I didn't want to hear. Didn't want to face. And then I went into   
action, I cleaned the house, I washed all my clothes, I washed me-"   
  
"I noticed that," Willow interrupted with a grin. "You smell a whole lot   
better now. But you have to gain some weight."   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes, "I had to look in Joyce's room for a belt, mine were   
all too long," she admitted on a little laugh, that almost turned into a sob   
out of relief. God, maybe she was able to live again. Maybe she would be   
able to conquer all her fear and guilt. Maybe... "Anyway," she took a deep   
breath, "I had just ordered a pizza and was about to eat it when Angel   
suddenly stood on my doorstep. But that wasn't all. He didn't just stand   
there. He... he's human, Will."   
  
The witch did another double take, "He's what? Oh my God."   
  
"Exactly my reaction. And - oh God, Willow, it was horrible. He... I   
couldn't face him. I couldn't even look into his eyes. All the shame I felt,   
all the guilt, it overwhelmed me. I threw him out."   
  
"You threw him out?"   
  
"Yeah," Buffy confirmed with a single nod. "I couldn't face him. When I saw   
him there, standing in the sunlight, I couldn't stand it. He left and I   
broke down. I bawled my soul out almost all through the night. But I feel   
better now. Not well, you know, but better. And," she added with pride, "I   
didn't drink for two whole days."   
  
"That's great," Willow said enthusiastically and Buffy had to smile. Trust   
Willow to push your self-esteem. "And he just left? Just like that?"   
  
"No, not really," the blond admitted, "he left his card. He said I should   
call him, that he wanted to meet the kids and... that if I didn't call him,   
he would be back. You should've heard his voice. He meant it Willow."   
  
"Well, good for him," the redhead said with a nod.   
  
"Willow!" Buffy stared at her friend in confusion.   
  
"Yeah, well," her friend, replied, "It was time that someone forced you to   
face reality. And I don't care if it is your mother's ghost or a human   
Angel..." she stopped and seemed to consider it, "A human Angel," she mused,   
"I always wondered how he would look in the sunlight."   
  
"He looks great," the blond said, and then grinned sheepishly at her friend.   
When Willow grinned at well, Buffy let out a little laugh, "He really does,   
you know. He doesn't look a day older and... God, he's so handsome. I'm   
forty years old, and he doesn't look a day older than twenty-six."   
  
A little knowing smile appeared on Willow's lips and Buffy held up her hand,   
"Don't even go there, Willow. I know what you're thinking."   
  
"Thinking?" the witch's face was all innocence, "What would I be thinking?   
I'm thinking nothing. Absolutely nothing. So he's still handsome, huh?"   
  
Buffy gave her the evil eye, but let it go, "Yes, he's still handsome. But   
that's *so* not the point. The point is that I'm finally seeing what I was   
doing to myself and that I'm going to try to... make amends, I suppose."   
  
"Oh, Buffy", Willow said, half-laughing, half-crying, she stood up and was   
about to embrace her friend.   
  
But the blond held out a hand, "No, don't. It's been only two days. No need   
to celebrate yet. Let's wait a little bit longer. But I would like to see   
Marlie, Willow. How is she? Is she all right? Would you come with me?"   
  
The redhead's smile was warm and she hooked her arm under Buffy's, "Of   
course I'm going with you. Marlie will be thrilled. She's doing great. She's   
a tough little girl. So no worries. But first of all I'm going to get you   
something to eat. You're so thin, a breeze would blow you away."   
  
The two women laughed and made their way to Willow's kitchen, unaware of the   
fact that a seventeen-year-old girl had heard every word of their   
conversation.   
  
... to be continued 


	7. Chapter Six: The Truth Hurts

Just Human, Chapter 6: THE TRUTH HURTS   
  
Buffy's thoughts involuntarily wandered back to the last time she's been in   
a hospital. Six months ago she had listened to a doctor who'd explained her   
that Riley was in a coma and wouldn't wake up again. It had been another of   
those experiences that had taught Buffy that hospitals were bad, evil   
actually. And the thought of her little daughter alone inside of such an   
evil institution made her insides churn.   
  
Guilt settled in her guts again when she entered Marlie's room at Willow's   
side, but it vanished instantly when her daughter became aware of her   
presence and a beam appeared on her pretty, little face, "Mommy," Marlie   
cried and reached out for her.   
  
"Marlie, darling." She was at her daughter's side and had her small body in   
her arms the next second. "Oh, Marlie, my baby. I'm so sorry I wasn't there   
for you," she said and held her daughter close. They held onto each other   
for several seconds, then Buffy carefully pulled back to look at Marlie,   
"How are you? Are you okay, sweetie? Does your tummy still hurt?"   
  
Wiping her tears away Buffy watched her daughter shaking her head, "No, it's   
all good now," Marlie announced. "The doctor, her name is Callie, and I can   
call her Callie, you know. She's neat."   
  
"That's wonderful, baby," Buffy said, stroking a hand over her daughter's   
soft curls, "So what did Callie say."   
  
"You ought to call her Doctor," she scrunched her little nose for a moment,   
"or maybe if you're nice she let you call her Callie too."   
  
"Maybe I'm going to ask her," her mother said, smiling. Willow was right,   
there was no reason to worry. Marlie was certainly well and if she had been   
frightened in the hospital, it didn't show anymore. "I'm glad you feel all   
better now."   
  
Marlie nodded earnestly, "Callie said she cut the bad thing out. There was a   
part inside of me that got... insected," she tilted her head and looked at   
Willow, whose presence she just now acknowledged.   
  
The redhead didn't mind at all. She was glad that Buffy seemed to crawl out   
of the hole she'd been digging herself into over the past months, "Infected,   
love, it's infected."   
  
"Infected," Marlie beamed proudly at her mother. "So Callie cut the thing   
out. Now I'm all better again."   
  
"That's wonderful," Buffy smiled at her lovingly, "I'm going to talk to your   
doctor Callie later." Suddenly she saw a book lying on the bed stand beside   
her daughter, "Oh, did Aunt Willow buy you this book?" she asked, assuming   
her friend had brought it with her to cheer Marlie up. Silently she thanked   
Willow for being so thoughtful. She would make it up to her, Buffy promised   
herself firmly. There would be no more hiding. At least not from the   
responsibility of caring for her children.   
  
"The book is neat, isn't it?" Marlie beamed again, opening the first page   
and showing her mother colored pages with pictures that told a story even to   
children who couldn't yet read.   
  
"Yes, it is," her mother, agreed. She wanted to ask her daughter something   
as the little girl's attention suddenly shifted towards the door and her   
beam even widened.   
  
"Mr. Angel," she cried happily. "My mommy says the book you gave me is neat."   
  
Buffy stiffened instantly. Angel. If she had been more attentive to her   
surroundings, not so distracted by her daughter, she would've known he was   
there. There was the old tingling feeling in her stomach that came whenever   
he was near.   
  
"Hi, Muffin," he greeted Marlie and smiled, then more quietly he added, "Hi   
Buffy. Willow."   
  
"Hi, Angel," Willow said cheerfully, "It's wonderful to see you." She   
crossed the room and enveloped the former vampire in a fierce hug. Looking   
up into his face she watched his eyes for a moment, then obviously content   
with what she'd seen, she smiled, "I think I just have to get used to you   
being warm and all."   
  
He laughed at that, and Buffy felt her insides knot. "I needed some time to   
get used to it myself," he replied smiling back at the witch. "I'm glad   
Marlie likes the book I brought her this morning."   
  
Finally Buffy managed to turn away from her daughter and towards him, "Thank   
you," she said stiffly. "It was very thoughtful of you to bring Marlie a   
present. But you shouldn't have."   
  
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "It was nothing," he said,   
deliberately missing the warning in her voice, "I'm glad I could give her   
something she liked." He came to stand beside Buffy and the bed, then   
reached out and lightly stroked Marlie's cheek with the back of his fingers.   
"How are you feeling, Muffin?"   
  
"Fine," the girl replied, beaming again. God, how did he do it, Buffy   
wondered, how did he manage to get even little girls to drool over him. Damn   
the man. "I showed the book to Callie. That's my doctor. And she liked it   
too."   
  
"That's great," he replied smiling. "I hope you'll be soon allowed to go   
home."   
  
"Callie says tomorrow," Marlie retorted, looking back at her mother. "Can I   
come home with you then?" she asked.   
  
"Of course, darling," Buffy assured her daughter, moved by the fact that she   
preferred to stay with her, even after the things she had done or rather not   
done.   
  
"YAY!" the little grinned at her mother, then hugged her and planted a   
smacking kiss on Buffy's mouth that brought tears into the woman's eyes.   
Clearing her throat, the blond turned her head to Willow, "Will, would you   
stay with Marlie for a moment? I'd like to talk to Angel in private."   
  
"Sure," the witch agreed easily, winking at the former vampire behind   
Buffy's back. He flashed her a smile in response. He had always liked Willow   
and although the redhead hadn't always agreed with the way he'd behaved   
regarding Buffy, she'd always been a supportive friend, had even accepted   
him back in their circle when nobody else would.   
  
Buffy stood up slowly, carefully avoiding any contact with Angel who was   
definitely standing too close for her taste. Not bothering to look at him,   
she said, "Could we talk in the waiting room?"   
  
"Of course," he replied and followed her outside the room and the short   
distance to the waiting area. The moment they'd stepped inside, however, she   
whirled around, her eyes flashing with anger, she spat right into his face,   
"How you dare?" she hissed. "How dare you come and visit my daughter?"   
  
Clearly taken aback by her hostile reaction, but not intending to back down,   
he held his ground and simply looked at her. And by God, she was still   
beautiful. Of course she'd been beautiful yesterday too, but he'd been too   
distracted by the sadness in her eyes, the shadows around them, the   
exhaustion that had surrounded her, but today with her eyes blazing fire,   
she simply took his breath away.   
  
She wasn't a girl anymore. She was a grown up woman now. A mother. She'd   
become the exact woman he'd seen in the girl 25 years ago, the girl that had   
come down the steps at Hemery. Ever since he'd heard about Riley's death he   
had asked himself what she would look like. He hadn't allowed himself those   
thoughts before. Not consciously anyway. During sleep, when the walls were   
down, when he wasn't able to block her out, he had imagined her. But no   
imagination came even close to the woman in front of him. She was   
incredible.   
  
But she was also very angry the moment, "Buffy, I didn't think you would   
mind. Willow told me that your daughter was ill and I wanted to bring her a   
present."   
  
She raised her brows mockingly, "Oh yeah? Don't play dumb, Angel. You rarely   
did things without a reason. After all you were the master of mental   
torture. I'm sure you remember one or two things from then."   
  
It was a low blow and she knew it, even regretted it for a moment when his   
face lost all color. But he managed instantly to regain control and Buffy   
pushed all regrets aside. "No comments?" she asked.   
  
"I think that doesn't earn a comment," he replied calmly. "I wanted to give   
Marlie a present. Period. I don't need to apologize for that."   
  
Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then she took a deep breath, "I told you   
yesterday, Angel. I don't want you here. And I certainly don't want you   
around my children. They're Riley's children, not yours." She knew she was   
hurting him with her words, but she didn't care. "They were conceived in   
love. And you're not going to try to destroy their connection with their   
father by wiggling your way into their lives. You had your chance 22 years   
ago and you didn't take it. You left me. It was your decision. You have to   
live with it. Don't involve my children in your twisted plans."   
  
He looked at her long and inquiringly, then shook his head, a sad smile   
appearing on his lips, "Do you actually believe any of that crap you've been   
telling me, Buffy?" he asked.   
  
"Crap?" she gaped at him, "You think that's crap? My husband died six months   
ago. I am his widow, the mother of his three children. Don't you think it's   
a little bit inappropriate for you to think... whatever you're thinking?"   
  
"No," he said calmly. "It's not inappropriate, and you know it. You've been   
lying to yourself for so long, you can't even see the truth anymore."   
  
"You have no idea what you're talking about," she hissed at him, "I'm not   
lying to myself. Why should I? I had a wonderful life with Riley and my   
children. Who are you claiming to know what I'm thinking? How dare   
you?"   
  
He shook his head slightly, sadly, "The problem is, Buffy, I know you better   
than you know yourself. Do you want me to show you?" he asked.   
  
"Show me?" she raised her chin haughtily, "How do you want-" The words died   
when he suddenly bent his head to slant his mouth over hers.   
  
The touch of his lips sent an instant jolt of sensation ripping through   
Buffy's body. Her lips parted almost automatically and Angel's tongue   
flicked against hers, and she felt a fierce quiver of a once too familiar   
yearning.   
  
She knew there were a thousand good reasons why she shouldn't kiss Angel,   
why kissing Angel was a very big mistake. Right now, though, Buffy couldn't   
remember any of them. Although a little voice was whispering warnings into   
her ear, her arms encircled his neck almost by themselves, her body   
softened, melting against his.   
  
In return Angel deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting deeper, exploring   
familiar territory, claiming her as his again. Involuntarily she moaned into   
his mouth, drowning in the sensations his intimate touch awakened in her   
body, sensations she hadn't allowed herself to remember for a very long   
time.   
  
Buffy felt the familiar warmth spreading through her body and settling in   
hidden places between her thighs. She had forgotten the way she instantly   
responded to Angel's kisses, the way every fiber of her body responded. Her   
skin felt hot, her head light, her muscles like jelly. When Angel's hand   
slid down her back, beneath her blouse, caressing her soft skin, she felt it   
in everywhere. If they weren't in a waiting room in a hospital but in her   
apartment only God knew what would happen next.   
  
The realization that she was actually contemplating having sex with him,   
right here and now, was like pouring ice water on her overheated senses.   
With a strangled sound she pulled her arms from his neck and pushed him   
away. Oh God, what was she doing? Had she completely lost her mind? "How   
dare you?" she hissed again, and without thinking slapped him across his   
face.   
  
He stood there, only staring at her, then again in that infuriating, calm   
voice, he said, "Stop lying to yourself, Buffy. You're only hurting   
yourself."   
  
"I'm not lying to myself," she insisted stubbornly, "I don't need   
you. I'm happy with my children. Riley's children," she reminded him and   
herself in the same moment. Oh God, Riley was dead for six months and her   
body had betrayed her by wanting Angel like that. "I didn't need you for the   
last 20 years, Angel. And I certainly don't need you now to destroy the   
memory of a good man I loved."   
  
Angel smiled at her, "You need me alright. And as soon as you're ready to   
admit it to yourself, I'll be here."   
  
"Can't you understand plain English?" she shouted, desperation entering her   
voice. "I. Don't. Need. You. I don't even want you. And don't ever come near   
my children again."   
  
He turned then, but stopped at the door and looked back, gazing into her   
eyes for a very long moment, "I'm not going away, Buffy," he said   
before he left the hospital.   
  
Buffy felt herself shiver, even after he'd left. Making her way back to her   
daughter's room, she could still feel his knowing eyes resting on her. No,   
she vowed, he wouldn't make her believe that he was still important for her.   
She wouldn't betray Riley's memory by lusting after Angel. Riley was the man   
who had loved her, married her, had given her three wonderful children and   
years of happiness.   
  
But he was also the man whom she had given absolutely nothing in return.   
  
*****   
  
Slamming the door of his motel-room behind him Angel was silently discussing   
what tattered remnants of a brain he still possessed. Maybe he was just   
tired, having spent a sleepless night after leaving Buffy in her apartment   
the way he had. Yes, that had to be the explanation for doing something   
totally and completely stupid as grabbing Buffy and kissing her like that.   
  
At the moment he should probably count himself lucky that she had just   
slapped him and not tried to get security to remove him from the hospital.   
  
Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled sharply and opened the small   
fridge in his room to get a bottle of non-alcoholic beer. It didn't taste   
like the real stuff, but at the moment he couldn't afford to let his mind be   
clouded even the tiniest bit.   
  
God, he had to be the single most stupid guy on this planet. Kissing Buffy   
out of a sudden urge to prove something. Prove, what exactly, he mocked with   
himself. That she still responded to him sexually? He already knew that. He   
wasn't a vampire anymore, but you if you've lived more than 250 years, you did   
pick up a thing or two. After his lifetime-experience Angel felt sure that he   
could see if a woman was aroused around him or not.   
  
Besides. When it came to Buffy, he seemed to have special senses that never   
failed him. Buffy wanted him. The same way he wanted her. Yet, he should've   
known better than just to grab and kiss her like some caveman.   
  
Slamming his hand through his hair again, he downed the bottle in large   
gulps. If he didn't want to do irreparable damage to his long-term plans,   
he'd better start thinking with his head instead of his dick. In 250 years   
he should've been able to acquire a little bit of self-control. Buffy was   
confused and hurting right now, he had to go slow or he would accomplish   
nothing.   
  
The news about Riley's death had left him completely stunned. For about five   
minutes. After that his mind and - so he had to admit to himself - his body   
had gone into overdrive.   
  
When he turned human seven months ago, it had been unexpected. He woke up   
one morning with the very unfamiliar urge to use the bathroom and only after   
he'd flushed the toilet he took a moment to think about that unusual   
occurrence. That had been the exact moment when he realized that something   
was different. It had taken him another two seconds to notice what it was.   
Something steady was beating in his chest.   
  
Having experienced the transformation before, on the day that wasn't, he   
wasn't as stunned as he'd been then. Still, the fact that this time he   
hadn't been battling a Morah made him believe pretty quickly that this might   
be the fulfillment of the prophecy Wesley had translated all those years   
ago. Although, he had to admit, he'd expected it to happen a bit more   
spectacularly, at least with a bit of lighting and thunder and not just like   
this.   
  
But then, he wasn't going to look a gifted horse into the mouth. He had done   
it before, and had regretted it ever since, but not this time. Somehow,   
strange as it may sound, he felt that he had really earned it. Not only had   
he conquered Darla, Wolfram & Hart and other evil challenges. He had also   
given up the only woman he'd ever loved. In Angel's book, that was enough to   
earn redemption.   
  
Realizing what he was thinking he remembered that he'd laughed out loud,   
feeling free for the first time since Darla had made him a vampire in that   
dark and dirty alley in Galway, maybe even since before that. He had never   
really felt free in his days as a human, never being able to accomplish what   
his father expected from him.   
  
After he'd gotten his soul back, guilt and remorse had almost drowned him   
and he'd been on the edge of giving up until a blond girl had entered his   
life and given him a sense and a purpose. Still, even with Buffy in his   
life, he had never thought it possible to leave his past behind someday.   
  
But somewhere on his way it had happened and when he felt his heart beat   
that special morning in his bathroom he didn't jump into the air and right   
through the roof the way he had once expected it. No, he just accepted it,   
feeling he had rightfully earned it.   
  
Yet, that didn't mean that he knew what to do with his newfound humanity.   
  
Cordelia, of course, true to fashion had tried to get him hooked up with   
some woman or rather girl, because he still looked the same age he'd been   
when he'd turned into a vampire, which was 26. And although some of the   
women Cordelia had chosen for him were pretty, some of them even beautiful,   
he hadn't been interested in them.   
  
Sure there had been one or two purely sexual encounters. After all he'd   
thought Buffy to be out of his reach, forever happily married to Riley Finn,   
and he was just a man, but they had left him empty and aching for the real   
thing.   
  
So when Cordelia had called him from L.A. to tell him about Riley's death   
he'd literally jumped into the first available plane and rushed to her. And   
he'd been thinking about this. Cordelia hadn't just told him that Riley was   
dead but also that Buffy seemed to take it hard, that she was drinking   
heavily and that Willow had called it very bad.   
  
Very bad coming from Willow, the person who always tried to find the good in   
everything, had made the hairs in his neck stand up straight. He had called   
her himself and what she had told him had made him drive down to Sunnydale   
without thinking twice. Buffy was falling apart and she needed him. The last   
time, shortly after Dawn had died, she had been in a bad shape as well and   
Angel, knowing that he couldn't give her what she needed, had swallowed his   
jealousy and called Riley to the rescue. But this time, things were   
different. He was human now, and there was no curse, nothing that could keep   
him from her side.   
  
Experience of working with people in similar situations to Buffy, had made   
him expect her hostility. He'd known that she wouldn't greet him with open   
arms, that she wouldn't want him here. After all, she'd loved her husband.   
As much as it hurt him, he had to accept the fact and a part of him was glad   
that she'd found a satisfying relationship and someone who could pull her   
out of the darkness that seemed so dominant in her life. That had been,   
after all, the reason why he'd left her. Of course, there was another part   
of him, that was raging with jealousy, but over the years Angel had learned   
to live with it. Buffy was a beautiful fantasy, but he had accepted that   
this particular dream would never come true.   
  
But now, all of a sudden, it was possible, and Angel would be damned if he'd   
let this opportunity slip from his hands.   
  
The ringing of his cell phone pulled him from his thoughts and he smiled   
when he saw the caller ID on his display, "Hi Cordy," he said softly, having   
expected her call much sooner.   
  
"Angel," her voice was equally soft. "How are you?"   
  
There was concern in her voice and he had to smile, "I'm fine. Well, besides   
the fact that my cheek still stings from the slap I received from Buffy."   
  
There was a moment of silence on the other side, then a gasp and a shocked,   
"WHAT? She slapped you? That bitch! How-"   
  
"Cordy," he interrupted her. "She had a reason to slap me. I kissed her.   
Right there in the hospital. And I had absolutely no right to do it."   
  
"You... kissed her?" her voice was surprised. "Boy, you do work fast, don't   
you?"   
  
He had to chuckle at that, "It wasn't like that. We had an argument and I...   
well, I suppose I just got carried away for a moment," he sighed, "Anyway.   
How are Michael and Kathy?"   
  
"Don't try to distract me, Angel," Cordelia said sharply, but there was also   
fondness in her voice, "They're fine, by the way. They terrorized their   
father this morning because they wanted to go to the zoo and he was reading   
some really intriguing book about vampires. Of course they won. They left   
for the zoo about an hour ago."   
  
"And so you thought you'd use the spare time to call and find out if I'm   
still sober and not already drowning my frustration in a bottle of Whisky?"   
he asked only half-joking.   
  
He could hear her sigh on the other end of the line, "Angel I know you love   
her, but I'm still not convinced that this was your wisest move. I mean,   
she's been married, she's the mother of three kids, Riley's kids if I may   
remind you."   
  
He winced and was glad she couldn't see or hear it, "As if I could ever   
forget that," he replied, his voice neutral. "I know all that. Cordelia it's   
been a long time since I broke up with her. It's been 22 years to be exact.   
I couldn't expect her to wait for me. Of course she had a life."   
  
"Yes, mostly because you preferred not to tell her about your Shanshu."   
  
"Cordelia-"   
  
"Yes, yes," she interrupted him impatiently, "I know. We already talked   
about this and I'm convinced you were right. None of us could know if and   
when this human thing was meant to happen. But I'm just afraid you're   
clinging to a false hope." Her voice turned pleading, "I don't want you to   
get hurt, Angel. I know, you always seem so strong, but I know you. You   
aren't. You're the most sensitive guy I've ever known. You're hurt easily   
and you bleed inside where nobody can see it, because you can hide it so   
well. And Buffy's always been extremely good at finding all the sore spots."   
  
"That's not fair, Cordelia, and you know it," he argued, "I've hurt her   
plenty of times before. Unintentionally, I know, but still I did it. If she   
hurt me, she did it because she was hurt herself."   
  
"Oh sure, leave it to you to defend her," Cordelia sighed again, "Okay, do   
what you have to. I know I can't stop you anyway. But please be careful. I'm   
not sure if I could stand a broken heart."   
  
He smiled fondly, but then remembered she couldn't see it, "Thank you,   
Cordelia," he said, "You're a good friend."   
  
"The best," she replied and they both laughed. "Take care of yourself and   
call us. We want to know what's going on. And if she's being the usual   
bitch, just come over. Our door is always open for you."   
  
Angel blinked sudden tears away and clicked off his phone with a last   
good-bye. He turned and looked out of the window onto the bright streets of   
Sunnydale. Not in his wildest dreams he had expected to ever see them in   
sunlight and not to shy away from it. This had been a miracle, and not a   
minor one. If an once evil vampire could turn human after more than 250 years,   
then other miracles were certainly possible as well. He just had to keep   
believing it.   
  
  
... to be continued 


	8. Chapter Seven: Growing Pains and Great E...

Just Human, Chapter 7: GROWING PAINS AND GREAT EXPECTATIONS   
  
Benjamin Finn, whom his friends usually called Ben, was ten years old, not   
quite sure if girls were nice or not, and loved hanging out with his best   
friend Jesse Harris. Or he rather had, until six months ago, when Ben's   
world suddenly changed and he now found himself envying his friend for   
something he no longer had. A Father.   
  
Not that he had spent much time with Riley. Not really. His father had often   
been busy, had worked long hours and came home when his younger children   
were already asleep. And even on weekends when his father was around he   
seemed to favor his daughters, especially Joyce, Ben's older sister.   
  
It wasn't Joyce's fault, of course, and she was okay most of the time, if   
she wasn't talking about boys or glued to the phone talking to one of her   
bitchy girlfriends who seemed to have no other subject than makeup or the   
latest fashion.   
  
Early in his life Ben had realized that females were completely different   
from his sex and he remembered telling his father about it. Riley had   
grinned and stroked his son's head, telling him that he had no idea how   
right he was. It was those moments between father and son, Ben missed. There   
would be no more of these moments in the future, no more looking up and then   
at his friends and saying 'That's my dad.' Riley wouldn't come back. Ever.   
  
With his ten years, Ben was old enough to understand about death. And its   
finality. He'd seen people die - even if it was only on television. But of course   
the death of his father had been the first personal experience and he had to   
admit it was different.   
  
Ben had wanted to talk to his mother about it, but shortly after his father   
had died, his mother had changed. He hadn't understood it at first, but soon   
he'd seen that she was drunk most of the time, that her mood changed quickly   
and that she cried a lot. One morning he had found her almost unconscious on   
the living room floor and was scared shitless. For one horrible moment he'd   
thought that after his father died his mother was now dead too. Aunt Willow   
had heard about the incident and a week later she'd come and taken him and   
his sisters to her own house, where he was living now.   
  
On the whole the house wasn't so bad. He missed his mother though. But   
Willow and Tara were okay most of the time, as were their daughters. And he   
was used to his sisters, but it was a pain being the only guy between girls.   
True, Willow and Tara weren't exactly girls anymore. They were women. Old   
women. At least in the eyes of a ten year old. For him everyone older than   
20 was senile.   
  
And there was another problem that had occurred just recently, and that had   
nothing to do with his dead father or his drunken mother. Still in the eyes   
of a ten year old it wasn't any less urgent. The girls had started looking   
at him. And he didn't exactly know what to do.   
  
Ben was tall for his age, had his mother's blond hair and his father's blue   
eyes. A combination, girls obviously found rather fascinating. And they had   
started looking at him. Not just looking at him they way they had before. It   
was different. Even the older girls were looking in his direction and   
giggling. And that unnerved him.   
  
None of the girls were looking at Jesse Harris. It wasn't fair, Ben decided.   
Jesse could go where he wanted and none of the girls would turn her head. He   
had told Willow about it and the redhead had just laughed and told him that   
there would come a day when he would be grateful for it. Well, shoot. Maybe   
he would, but that didn't change his current problem.   
  
"Gina Rollins is looking at you."   
  
At the last possible moment Ben stifled a groan and turned to look as his   
friend Jesse. "I don't want to hear it," he said defensively.   
  
Jesse giggled and glanced at the twelve-year-old girl with auburn locks he   
silently adored. When Gina caught him watching her, she made a face and   
stuck out her tongue. Jesse sighed, "I wouldn't mind if she would be looking   
at me."   
  
"Then make her look at you," Ben said impatiently, eager to change the   
subject. "Your parents coming to parent-teacher night next week?" he asked   
his friend.   
  
"Yeah. Although mom hates it. But dad thinks it's great fun. He said he   
never enjoyed them when he was a boy." Jesse grinned, "Dad is so old, I   
can't imagine him as a boy. What about you? Are you... I mean, is your mom   
coming?"   
  
Ben felt a stab in his heart at the mention of his mother, but he just shook   
his head, "No, I think Willow and Tara are coming instead. The social worker   
said they had temporary cust... cust... well, they tell us what to do for a   
while," he said finally skipping the difficult word. "It's not really bad. I   
just..." he shrugged, feeling lost the way he had yesteday when Joyce had told   
him that his mother had been at Willow's house and hadn't waited for him, "kinda   
miss my mom and-"   
  
"Ben!"   
  
The boy's head flew around and wide eyed he stared at the blond woman   
standing on the stairs of his school, "Mom?" he said, his voice full of   
disbelief, then his whole face split into a broad smile and starting to run   
he shouted, "Mom!" not caring about the curious stares of his classmates or   
whether the situation might be embarrassing for a ten year old boy.   
  
His smaller body met that of his mother's with an impact and he threw his   
arms around her waist, "Mom," he whispered, pressing his face close, holding   
her with all his might. He had to swallow hard as soon as the first emotions   
faded and tears threatened behind his lids. It was bad enough that his   
friends had seen him running towards his mother like a five year old, but no   
way he would start to bawl like a toddler.   
  
"Ben." Her voice sounded gentle and he savored the soft touch of her hand on   
his hair. It had been so long.   
  
"Mom, what are you doing here?" he asked finally, pulling back, clearing his   
throat.   
  
"Well, I thought I'd pick you up at school."   
  
"I thought I was going with uncle Xander," he turned slightly, looking at   
his friend Jesse, "that's what Aunt Willow told me. That Uncle Xander would   
pick me up." There was uncertainty in his voice when he looked up at her.   
  
"And now I'm taking you," Buffy smiled at him, realizing only now how much   
she'd missed touching him. "Are you okay with it? 'Cause it means you have   
to walk."   
  
"'Cause the cops took your driver's license, right?"   
  
"Yes," she confirmed. "They took it because I drove while I was drunk.   
That's wrong and they had every right to take it away. But I will get it   
back. In a couple of weeks."   
  
"Uh-huh," Ben nodded, waving to his friend who was walking towards his   
father's car that had just arrived. Xander didn't get out, just exchanged a   
friendly smile with Buffy. Willow had informed him beforehand that the blond   
would come to pick up her son. He had been hesitant, not quite knowing what   
to expect from Buffy, but the redhead had assured him that the ex-slayer   
seemed back on track.   
  
"Do you just want to go home or do you want to do anything?" she asked,   
holding out her hand for him, smiling when he took it eagerly. He seemed to   
have missed her the same way she'd missed him. For a moment her thoughts   
wandered towards her oldest child. Joyce didn't seem to be as forgiving as   
her younger siblings. She was openly hostile and it would be hard to regain   
her trust again. Quickly she hit the breaks on that train of thought. She   
was with Ben now and he should get all her attention he'd missed for so   
long.   
  
"Could I have some ice cream?" he asked hopefully.   
  
Leave it to a ten year old to have his priorities, Buffy thought with a   
smile, and nodded, "Sure, you can. What kind do you want?"   
  
*   
  
They were sitting in the park now, Ben licking his ice cream and smiling up   
at her. He seemed utterly content with her presence and the cone of course.   
Buffy had to smile, "I went to see Marlie yesterday morning," she told her   
son, resisting the urge to touch his head again. She wasn't sure how much of   
her motherly affection his ten-year-old pride could take at one day.   
  
"I went with Aunt Tara to see her yesterday afternoon," Ben replied. "She's   
fine now. She was pretty bad that night. She cried and held her tummy." He   
stopped licking his ice cream and tilted his head, "Was it really bad? Or   
did she just cry 'cause she's a girl?"   
  
"No, it's bad," Buffy assured him. His second remark bothered her a little.   
"Why do you think girls do cry more than boys?"   
  
He shrugged, "They do. Dad said that too."   
  
"Dad said that?" his mother asked, suddenly feeling anger against her late   
husband. What the hell had Riley told his son? Her son.   
  
"Kind of," Ben amended, "He said they aren't afraid to show their feelings   
while boys always think they have to be strong."   
  
"Ah," Buffy said on a breath of relief. "And you think that's bad?"   
  
"Dunno," the boy replied, his mouth full of ice cream. "It's kinda   
embarrassing. Bawling in front of other people. In school, Jesse cried once   
'cause he hurt his leg and the others called him a sissy."   
  
"You did too?" she wanted to know.   
  
"Jesse's my friend," Ben said as if it explained everything and it probably   
did. Ben and Jesse Harris were thick as thieves, had been from the start.   
They had been born only three weeks apart, Ben being the older of the two,   
and had bonded immediately.   
  
"That's good," Buffy smiled and this time didn't hold back when she wanted   
to touch his blond hair. It was so soft, and it reminded her of the day of   
his birth, when the nurse had put that tiny boy on her stomach. Riley had   
been there too, and for a moment, one horrible moment she had wished... God,   
she had to stop doing that. Those thoughts led nowhere.   
  
"Hey mom." Ben's voice pulled her away from heavy thoughts. "Today our   
teacher said, we all came from Europe once. That all the Americans left   
Europe many, many years ago and come over to settle here. Is that true?"   
  
"Well, not completely, Ben. They didn't just come from Europe. They also   
came from Asia, Africa and from South America."   
  
"Oh?" Ben crunched his nose in concentration to consider her words. Then his   
face lit up, "Yeah. That's true," he said on a nod. "Li Yin, this girl in my   
class, she's from Asia. Well, not Li Yin. She's born here. But her Grandpa   
came from China."   
  
"And don't forget the Native Americans," came a deep voice from behind them.   
Ben whirled around, almost dropping his ice in the process, while Buffy's   
spine stiffened immediately.   
  
"The Indians?" the boy asked curiously.   
  
"Yes, exactly," the stranger, he'd never seen the man before, sat down   
beside him and his mom. "They were here long before either Europeans, Asians   
or whoever came."   
  
"I know that," Ben said. "Our teacher told us they were the natives. They   
fought against us, because the white man took their land. But now they are   
just American citizens like we are."   
  
"Yes," the man agreed, smiling. Ben liked his smile. And he liked the   
stranger's serious eyes and the way he talked to him. Grown ups sometimes   
tended to treat him like a little kid. This man didn't and that gave him   
bonus points in Ben's book.   
  
Ben felt himself smiling back and after a short hesitation he stuck out his   
hand the way his father had him taught to, "I'm Ben. And that's my mom," he   
added with a nod over his shoulder.   
  
"Hi, Ben, I'm Angel," the stranger replied and took the offered hand to shake it.   
  
The boy had to giggle, "Angel. That's a strange name."   
  
"I've been told that once or twice." The ex-vampire gave Ben his half-grin   
and Buffy felt her stomach lurch at the sight. "Your mom once said it was   
nice name."   
  
Ben's eyes widened, "You know my mom?"   
  
"Sure I do," Angel, said casually, "we met quite a while ago," he raised his   
hands, his eyes meeting Buffy's over the boy's head, "and until a couple of   
days ago, I thought we were still friends."   
  
Buffy quickly looked away, not able to meet his gaze any longer. Angel   
sighed inwardly, but shifted his attention back to Ben. "I met your mother   
when she was just 16 years old."   
  
"Oh?" Ben's eyes widened even more. Looking back and forth between his   
mother and Angel he tried to do the math. "That's... a long time," he said   
finally. "Wow. You've known her longer than me."   
  
The ex-vampire had to laugh, "Yeah. You weren't even in the making then."   
  
The boy giggled again. He liked the man who called himself Angel more and more.   
"Did you go to school together?" he wanted to know.   
  
"No," Angel shook his head, "I was... kind of following her."   
  
"Stalking," Buffy interrupted their companionable conversation. "You were   
stalking me. That's what we call what you did." With a smirk she added,   
"Seems you haven't lost that particular skill."   
  
Ben didn't pay attention to the warning note in his mother's voice. Too   
fascinated by Angel, he asked, "Did you know my dad too? 'Cause he's dead   
now."   
  
"Yes, I knew your father," the ex-vampire replied, his gaze solemn, "I'm   
sorry he died."   
  
"Sure you are," Buffy snorted.   
  
Ben shot his mother an irritated glance, not understanding her reaction.   
Angel narrowed his eyes slightly at the former slayer, but then his eyes were   
back on Ben, when he went on, "You must miss him a lot."   
  
The boy shrugged, "Sometimes," he said defensively, "Most of the time it's   
not bad. Aunt Tara and Willow, I live with them at the moment, are okay.   
Just," he shrugged again, lowering his voice to a whisper he leaned forward,   
"there are guy-things, you know. And it's kinda... embarrassing to talk to   
your mom about them."   
  
Angel stifled a grin, "Yeah, I know," he said in the same conspiratory tone.   
  
"You would," Ben replied, remembering his ice cream-cone and munching it,   
"'cause you're a guy too." He gave Angel a happy smile.   
  
"Ben, maybe you should ask Angel if he's even got the time to talk with you   
for so long," Buffy said, annoyed by Angel's presence. The man surely was   
stubborn. And he was sticking to his promises. He had told her he wouldn't go   
away and there he was, smiling and chatting as if he were her son's best friend.   
  
"Oh, I've got time. I like talking to Ben," the ex-vampire said with a grin.   
  
"Figures," Buffy muttered under her breath, narrowing her eyes at Angel.   
  
"See," Ben turned to his mother, "He likes talking to me. Don't be a   
spoil-sport, Mom."   
  
"Yeah, *Mom*," Angel said, "Don't be a spoil sport. There are times when guys   
have to talk together." He shot Buffy a wicked grin and she was tempted to   
stick out his tongue at him. Bastard.   
  
"There are things, women don't understand," Ben explained, "Guy-things."   
  
Oh sure, Buffy thought, now he's made an ally in my own family. Great.   
God, what did she have to do, so that Angel wouldn't bother them anymore?   
Now he was even following her to the park. But she had to admit - although   
hesitantly - that Ben seemed to like the ex-vampire. And Angel seemed to   
have a talent around children. Strange, she hadn't thought he would be good   
around children at all. She suddenly remembered their conversation one night   
in a graveyard when he'd told her that he wasn't able to father a child. He   
had sounded so sad then. So maybe he even wanted kids. But with the night   
surrounding him all the time, she hadn't been able to imagine them around   
him. But he was good with them, at least he was with Ben. The boy wasn't the   
easiest with strangers, but with Angel he didn't seem to have any problems.   
  
"I've had a lot of practice with Cordelia's and Wesley's kids," Angel said   
and Buffy realized that she had said the last thought aloud.   
  
"Oh," a bit startled she looked at him, not sure if she wanted to   
participate in that conversation. Not certain what she wanted at all. "Yeah,   
Willow told me she and Wesley were married. I thought it was... rather odd."   
  
The ex-vampire had to laugh, "I thought the same at the beginning. But   
somehow they seem... right. They have a boy and a girl. They're adopted."   
  
"I see," Buffy said, although she didn't. Of course she knew that Angel was   
probably close to Cordelia and Wesley. They had worked for and with him for   
a long time, but the way he was talking about them, was more like family.   
More like she would talk about Willow or Xander. "You're close," she   
remarked, hating to feel jealous for a moment.   
  
Angel shrugged, "I guess we are. Cordy's like an annoying little sister." He   
laughed again, but there was also sadness in his eyes. Was he maybe thinking   
about his real sister? The one his demon had killed so long ago. "For a   
while I thought..." he paused, shook his head, "Anyways. Yeah. They're good   
friends." After another pause, he added warmly, "Family."   
  
Ben followed the conversation of the two adults, munching his cone and   
watching them. He had a strange feeling in his gut seeing them together. He   
couldn't explain it, but it was there. It was the first time he saw his   
mother with a guy except his father, and he wasn't so sure he liked it.   
Sure, there was Xander. But Xander was Jesse's dad and married to Anya.   
Angel on the other hand... "Do you have kids?" he asked, interrupting the   
adults.   
  
"No, I don't," Angel replied, his voice even, but the sadness had come back   
into his eyes, Buffy noticed. "But Michael's my godchild. He's the boy I was   
talking about before."   
  
"Your godchild?" Buffy eyed him curiously. She remembered him telling her   
being human for several months. "How old is he?"   
  
"Almost seven."   
  
So he had still been a vampire then. The ex-slayer thought back to the   
Cordelia she had known. Queen C certainly wouldn't have made a vampire to   
the godparent of her child.   
  
As if sensing her thoughts, Angel said, "Cordy practically forced me. She   
thought I needed some..." he laughed slightly, "real strings to humanity."   
  
"I see," Buffy nodded.   
  
Bored with the fact that the adults weren't paying attention to him, Ben   
looked at his mother, "Mom, can I go over there?" he asked and pointed at a   
spot where several boys around his age were playing baseball.   
  
"Of course," she answered, and Ben was gone in a flash. There settled an   
awkward silence for a while, until Angel cleared his throat.   
  
"I..." he began, pausing again. When she finally raised her head to look at   
him, he said, "I wanted to apologize. For... how I behaved at the hospital.   
I had no right to... I never planned to kiss you. And I'm sorry if you think   
I tried to get attached to your children. Willow told me that Marlie had an   
appendectomy and Michel was in the hospital once, so... I thought she might   
be lonely or scared or-"   
  
"It's okay," she interrupted him softly.   
  
"I really didn't-. Did you just say it was okay?"   
  
"I... overreacted a bit, I think," she said, strangely disappointed that he   
had apologized for the kiss as well. Because after her initial anger had   
faded, Buffy noticed that it had been a very long time since she'd felt that   
way. Pushing the dangerous thought aside, she said, "Marlie liked you. And   
she loves the book." Buffy frowned slightly, trying to find the right words,   
"I... I had a rough time these few last months and... It's hard."   
  
"I know," Angel said, "I mean, I understand. You loved him very much."   
  
"I did," she replied quickly, almost too quickly. "He was... a good man. A   
wonderful father and... I owe him a lot."   
  
Angel frowned for a moment at the words she'd used. Hardly the way you would   
describe a person who you were madly in love with. But he let it go for now,   
too glad that they were having their first almost civil conversation, that   
she wasn't just sending him away again. He wouldn't do anything to destroy   
this. "You were married for almost 20 years. You have three children   
together. You must miss him."   
  
"I..." Buffy looked at him, suddenly not sure, what to say. She missed   
Riley. She really did. But... Not willing to go there, she finally settled   
for, "Yes, I do," although a little voice in her head told another story.   
Looking at her watch, she gave him an apologetic smile, "We need to go now.   
I'm going to see Willow later and we're going to the hospital because Marlie   
is being released today. I'm... taking her home."   
  
"That's good," he replied warmly, smiling as well. Before she could turn and   
shout Ben's name, he reached out and touched her arm. "Can I... can I see   
you again? There are not strings attached. I just... want to see you."   
  
"Angel I..." she shook her head, "I don't know. It's..." difficult, she   
wanted to say, but then she made the fatal mistake of looking into his eyes.   
And she was lost, "Why don't you come for dinner... tomorrow?"   
  
"I'd love to," he said, his smile now reaching his eyes. "Thanks for the   
invitation."   
  
"The kids will be there," she replied, not sure if she needed to tell him or   
herself. "So it won't be... private."   
  
"I don't mind, I already told you. I'd like to meet your kids."   
  
"Okay then," she stood and he did the same. "Six thirty."   
  
"I'll be there."   
  
"I have to go now," she said almost apologetically. "Ben, come here, we have   
to leave!" she shouted.   
  
The boy nodded and raced towards them. When he reached his mother, he looked   
at Angel, "Are you leaving now?"   
  
"Yes. You and your mom are going to get your sister at the hospital. But I'm   
going to see you tomorrow night."   
  
The boy's eyes lit up, "That's great. Bye then."   
  
"Bye," Angel said and he looked at Buffy, their eyes communicating without   
words.   
  
They turned and walked away from each other, when Ben stopped and turned   
back, "Angel?" he asked and when the ex-vampire looked at him, he continued,   
"Do you like baseball?"   
  
"Not really," Angel answered. The boy's face fell, so he added quickly, "But   
I'm not bad at basketball. So we could play."   
  
"Cool," Ben grinned.   
  
Buffy quirked a curious brow, "You play basketball? Since when?"   
  
Angel grinned. A boyish grin, Buffy had never seen before, and it made all   
her insides go mush, "I learned a thing or two over the years. And not just about   
basketball. You'll see. See you tomorrow."   
  
"Yeah. Tomorrow," she replied and watched his back when he walked away. When   
she felt a tugging on her sleeve she looked down at her son, "What?"   
  
"Angel's neat," he said, and then started to walk towards Willow's house.   
  
Buffy stared at the head of her son for a while before she followed him and   
stifled a hysterical laugh the very last moment. Had she really invited   
Angel for dinner? She had to be nuts. Well, it wasn't something romantic,   
she told herself and tried to push the upcoming guilt away. Just a nice   
dinner, so that Ben could talk and play basketball with his friend.   
  
Yeah, sure. And elephants could fly.   
  
... to be continued 


	9. Chapter Eight: Tentative Steps

Just Human, Chapter 8: TENTATIVE STEPS   
  
When Angel finally stood in front of Buffy's apartment door, he couldn't   
remember having ever been so nervous before. It had started with the right   
choice of clothes, something Angel usually didn't have a problem with, but   
all of a sudden he found himself rummaging through his bag, trying to figure   
out what was appropriate to wear to a dinner with a grown up woman and her   
kids.   
  
In the end he'd called Cordelia and clenched his teeth at her uncontrolled   
laughter. He'd gotten so annoyed that she had managed to calm down enough to   
assure him he was fine no matter what he wore. "Angel," she'd said, "Relax.   
Buffy might not be older than you, but I'm sure she looks older. She will be   
much more concerned about how *she* looks."   
  
He'd muttered then that Buffy looked fine and a groan had been his answer.   
He had to grin, imagining Cordelia rolling her eyes at his comment. "You're   
blind where Buffy is concerned. You always were. Remember that night when   
she showed up after slayage at the Bronze? She looked really... well, I'm   
not even going to comment on it. Let's just say, I was ready to hit you when   
you couldn't stop talking about her the whole night. And *I* bought you a   
Cappuccino and had to listen to your tales of wonderful, beautiful Buffy."   
  
They'd laughed on the phone and Cordelia had assured him again that he'd   
just dress the way he usually did and he would be fine.   
  
So here he was wearing dark slacks and a white shirt with a dark jacket. No   
tie though. He hated ties and the few times when he had to wear one   
professionally had been torture enough. Besides, Cordelia had once mentioned   
he wasn't the type for ties and tonight he wanted to look his best.   
  
Taking a deep breath, he reached for the doorbell and rang it. Only a moment   
later he heard fast footsteps as if someone was running towards the door. It   
opened and he was looking into Ben's face and Marlie was peaking at Angel   
from the back. "Hi," the boy beamed, then grimaced when he heard his mother   
scolding him for just opening the door. Then Buffy appeared behind her   
children and Angel forgot how to breathe for a moment.   
  
She was a vision. Or maybe it was just him. It wasn't that she was dressed   
up or something. She wore red slacks and a white blouse, both protected by   
an apron because she was obviously cooking. It had to be the heat from the   
oven that had made her face all flushed and glowing. Just the way it   
probably would in the aftermath of lovemaking and Angel felt slightly more   
aroused than he should be.   
  
"Hi," she greeted him and smiled. It was the first really genuine smile   
she'd given him and he felt his insides flutter.   
  
"Hi," he returned the greeting, then looked down at the kids. "Hey, Ben.   
Marlie. Good to see you."   
  
"Come in," Buffy invited, ushering the children inside to make room for him.   
"I'm sorry," she apologized, leading him inside, "the food isn't ready yet.   
Ben and I had a little discussion about how to make his room presentable.   
We... uh... let's just say our ideas on how it should look in the end were   
slightly different." She gave her son a sideways glance and he grinned.   
  
Angel had to hide his own urge to grin, "I see," he said instead and   
followed her towards the kitchen. Without looking at him she went for the   
oven to stir what looked like some sauce.   
  
It took him by surprise to see her like that. The Buffy he had known was a   
slayer, a girl fighting evil, strong in body and soul and to see the woman,   
she'd become, doing something as simple as cooking, was... well, he had to   
admit, it was amazing. Maybe it was his 18th century upbringing, but he   
wasn't sure, maybe it was just so completely unexpected to see that side of   
her, the fact that she was a mother and was caring for her family.   
  
Obviously she had sensed his surprise, because she turned around and asked,   
"What?"   
  
"Uh... sorry?"   
  
"You were staring at me," she explained, "So I was wondering about the   
reason. And I would appreciate if you wouldn't say it was because you hadn't   
expected me to grow that old," she joked, but the lightness she tried to   
give her voice, was betrayed by the anxiousness in it.   
  
"No," Angel said quickly, leaning against the doorway, "it's just that...   
you and cooking, it's not something I ever thought about."   
  
"Uh-huh," she replied and he heard the amusement in her voice. "Angel. I   
have three children. Of course I have to cook. Joyce doesn't eat a lot   
usually. She's like all teenagers, always afraid she'd gain a pound, but Ben   
is a completely different matter." She looked back again and grinned,   
"Talking about the kids," she said and nodded towards a spot beside Angel.   
  
When the ex-vampire turned his head, he saw Ben and Marlie standing beside   
him, their heads tilted upward, watching him. "Hey, you two," he said and   
crouched down to be eye to eye with the little girl. "How are you? All   
better?"   
  
"Uh-huh," she nodded and grinned, "I gotta go home yesterday. With Mommy."   
She said the last word with so much force that Buffy felt tears sting in her   
eyes. But she firmly pushed the guilt away. There was no use in dwelling   
over what happened for the last six months. She had to look forward, not   
blame herself for her mistakes. They were done and all she could do was move   
on and try to make up for what her children had missed for a while.   
  
"That's good," Angel smiled at her. He reached out and gently touched the   
spot above the place where her appendix had once been. "And it doesn't hurt   
anymore?" he asked.   
  
"Uh-uh," she replied, shaking her head. "But I have to go back and get the   
switches out."   
  
"You get the stitches out," Ben interrupted with the wise voice of the older   
brother. "Next week she has to go back, but only for a little while and she   
can come back the same day," he added quickly, seeing that his sister's   
lower lip had started to tremble. At his last words her face lit up though.   
  
"Yeah," she agreed and because the ex-vampire was standing again, she tugged   
at his sleeve, then looked at her mother, "Mom, can I show Angel my room?"   
  
"Sure, go on. But ask him first, if he even wants too," Buffy replied with a   
smile.   
  
"Do you want to?" Marlie looked up at Angel, her eyes round and pleading, so   
that the ex-vampire's insides went to mush. How could you look at the little   
girl and not immediately fall in love?   
  
"Of course," he said and smiled, holding out his hand for her and she took   
it eagerly, pulling him towards her room.   
  
Ben followed slowly and grumbled, "It's just a girl's room."   
  
"It is not," Marlie shot back, pulling Angel a bit harder with her.   
  
"Is too," her brother replied, irrationally jealous about the way his sister   
had gotten the man's attention.   
  
"Well, it has to be," Angel tried to mediate between them. When Marlie   
stopped and looked up at him, as did Ben, he continued, "Marlie is a girl.   
Of course it's a girl's room. It wouldn't make much sense if it was a boy's   
room, would it?"   
  
Marlie brightened instantly, then stuck out her tongue at her brother, but   
beamed at Angel, "I'm a girl," she confirmed proudly. "Now come on," she   
urged. "I got some new stuffed animals. Uncle Xander brought one and aunt   
Tara and..." her voice faded when she went for her room, Angel in her tow.   
  
Ben stayed in the hallway listening to their conversation for a moment, and   
then he turned and went for his own room. Maybe he should change one or two   
things and then, when Angel was through with his sister he could come and   
see his room next.   
  
*   
  
Buffy smiled to herself seeing her children with Angel, and then paused for   
a moment, stunned. She hadn't felt a second of guilt at the picture. Angel   
was in her apartment, charming her kids, Riley's kids, and she couldn't help   
but be enchanted by the picture. She knew there had to be many reasons why   
this was wrong. Yet, she couldn't help but feel it was right. It felt right.   
  
"It is right. Why shouldn't it? They like him a lot and why shouldn't they.   
He's charming. And good looking."   
  
Buffy almost jumped out of her skin, and without turning she knew who had   
talked to her, "Mom," she said, a bit accusingly. "You have to stop doing   
that. You might not believe it, but those surprises can cause heart   
attacks." She turned then and spotted the ghost of her mother floating in   
the doorway.   
  
Joyce waved an impatient hand, "Nonsense," she said. "It's not your time   
yet. Not by a long shot." As if suddenly realizing what she'd revealed, she   
shook her head, "You look better," she remarked then.   
  
"Thanks," her daughter said ironically, "I suppose that's meant to be a   
compliment, although after the way I looked the last times you came, I'm not   
quite sure."   
  
"It wasn't a compliment. Just an observation. And I can see you haven't   
started drinking again."   
  
"No, I haven't," Buffy, confirmed. "Although the urge is there. All the   
time."   
  
"Of course it is," Joyce said gently, floating inside, settling at the edge   
of the kitchen table. "I'm glad you jumped over your shadow and invited him   
for dinner." She saw her daughter raise a brow and asked, "What?"   
  
"I thought you could read my thoughts," Buffy replied, turning back to her   
oven.   
  
"Only if I choose to," her mother said. "And I'm only doing it if I think it's   
necessary."   
  
"Oh, I see," the younger woman said sarcastically, and then sighed, not   
willing to fight with her mother tonight. "It's just," she gestured with the   
wooden spoon she was holding in her right hand, "you never liked Angel. Back   
when you were alive."   
  
"That's not true," Joyce defended herself. "The problem was, I was your   
mother and you were barely 16 when you first brought him to our house. You   
have a daughter at the same age now. How would you feel if she brought an   
older man to your apartment you didn't even know she was seeing?"   
  
Buffy grimaced, "Point taken," she said.   
  
"And then, when I knew what you were and what he was," Mrs. Summers sighed,   
"I had a hard time accepting the fact that you had that sacred duty and that   
I couldn't protect you the way a mother is meant to. You have no idea how   
hard that is," she paused for a moment, and then added thoughtfully, "Or you   
probably have now."   
  
"Yeah," her daughter replied, "I probably have."   
  
"But coming back to your initial question," Joyce went on. "I actually liked   
Angel. I thought he had very good manners. And a man as good-looking as he   
is would charm any woman in her right mind. He was even a charmer when he   
was what you call evil."   
  
"Mom!" Buffy exclaimed staring at her mother with a mixture of horror and   
amusement. "I can't believe it," she muttered then, turning back to the   
oven. "I'm discussing Angel's looks with my mother. Gee, I'm discussing with   
my mother. My mother who died 20 years ago." She shook her head and   
concentrated on stirring the sauce.   
  
"Who are you talking to?"   
  
Buffy jumped and turning, she found Angel standing in the doorway again. The   
ghost of her mother, though, was gone. She stared at him for a moment, then   
caught herself, "I... uh... just to myself," she managed finally. "It's a   
bad habit, I know, but," she shrugged, "it helps sometimes."   
  
To her surprise, he nodded, "It does."   
  
"Where are the kids?" she asked.   
  
"In their rooms," he grinned. "After thoroughly inspecting Marlie's and   
being introduced to all her pets and toys," he laughed when he heard Buffy   
groan. "It wasn't that bad. She's charming. You have a wonderful daughter."   
  
"Thanks," she said softly, and smiled at him.   
  
"Anyways. After that, Ben insisted on showing me his room as well. So I did.   
He showed me his electric train."   
  
"Ah," Buffy nodded knowingly. "And you managed to escape that soon?"   
  
He laughed again, and Buffy couldn't help to be amazed by the change in his   
attitude. Yes, he was still the Angel, she knew. But he was different as   
well. And it intrigued her to know more about this amazing man who had   
managed to capture her heart in a dark alley behind the Bronze so many years   
ago. Shocked about her own thoughts, she stiffened and turned back to her   
cooking.   
  
Angel sensed her withdrawl and for a moment wondered what had caused it, but   
answered her question lightly, "He's looking for his basketball now," he   
said. "I promised we would play. If that's okay with you?"   
  
She didn't dare to look at him, "Sure," she just said. "He's going to   
love it."   
  
The ex-vampire watched her thoughtfully, not quite sure how to go on from   
there. She was suddenly far away, completely out of his reach, where she had   
been friendly and open only seconds ago. Fortunately he was saved by Ben's   
arrival, the ball tucked firmly under his arm, he looked at Angel   
expectantly. With a last glance at Buffy's back, the ex-Vampire nodded at   
the boy and two went down to the street.   
  
*   
  
"I couldn't help but notice that Joyce wasn't around," Angel remarked,   
trying to sound as casual as possible.   
  
He and Buffy were sitting beside each other on seats in the living room.   
Dinner had been noisy with Ben and Marlie chatting all the time, so that the   
fact, that their mother had hardly spoken a word, had almost gone unnoticed.   
  
Almost.   
  
Angel of course had noticed it and kept wondering what had happened or what   
he had done or said to cause the change in her attitude. He was desperately   
trying to find a way to loosen her up again, but it had been in vain. After   
dinner, she and kids had cleaned the table, refused to let him help because   
he was the guest, and when the kids were safely tucked in their beds, she   
had politely asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee.   
  
He'd been inclined to refuse, sensing that she wasn't comfortable about the   
thought of being alone with him again, but the urge not to leave her the way   
she was at the moment, tense and stiff, had made him accept it.   
  
She looked up quickly now, and then turned her gaze back to her coffee,   
"She... decided to stay with Willow and Tara." She shrugged, "It's no big   
deal, really. She's almost grown up. If she wants to stay with them..." she   
trailed off, shrugged again.   
  
Angel's heart clenched painfully in his chest, feeling her pain like it was   
his own. She had tried to sound relaxed about the fact that her daughter had   
refused coming home. But Angel felt how hurt she was, that her daughter   
obviously didn't trust her anymore. For a parent, he assumed, that had to be   
almost the worst punishment.   
  
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, meaning it with all his heart. And a part of   
him, maybe the part that was still vampire, although he was thoroughly human   
now, wanted to get the teenager and punish her for causing her mother more   
pain. Buffy had gone through a lot recently, hell, all her life, and in   
Angel's eyes she earned all the happiness she could get.   
  
"Thanks," she glanced at him again. Then in an attempt to change the   
subject, she said, "You've changed." She gestured at him with a   
self-conscious smile, "Not on the outside, but... I can feel it. You're   
lighter."   
  
"Comes with the daylight, I suppose," he replied.   
  
"You seem not to blame yourself anymore," she said, "Before, you know, when   
you were still a vampire, you almost beat yourself up with guilt. I can't   
imagine that changing just because you're human all of a sudden. Something   
must have happened."   
  
He smiled when he saw her looking at him expectantly. Gradually she was   
coming out of her shell again, "I've given the whole thing a lot of thought   
over the years, Buffy. I know that Cordelia or Willow or even you thought it   
was easy. With a soul I was good, without," he shrugged, smiled a bit   
sheepishly, "not. But it's much more complicated. Darla once said that the   
same love or hate that was with us while we were alive was with us as   
vampires as well. And it's true up to a certain point. Although not   
completely.   
  
"I believed it for a while. She could sound very convincing at times. But I   
had to remind myself that she was a vampire herself when she said it. So her   
sight of things was... biased, at best. With the soul, the conscience is   
gone. The caring is gone. And there can't be love without caring for another   
person. So it isn't love that stays with a vampire it's... lust, or rather   
passion. It's often more intense because it's unrestrained."   
  
"You mean there's no guilt," she asked, listening intently.   
  
He nodded, "Yes, that's right. No guilt. And with this, as a side effect so   
to speak, the caring isn't needed. A vampire doesn't care what another   
person, another vampire thinks of him. It isn't important, because another   
person's feelings are of no consequence for him. At least, as long as it   
doesn't concern himself.   
  
"I once told you, it's an easy way to live. And it is. It's carefree. A   
vampire doesn't even think about death. Not its own anyway. There's no fear,   
no love, no guilt. It's even lower than the lowest animal because they at   
least care for their young. They care for their group or their partner too   
in some species. The vampire doesn't. Yes, he cares for his sire, but in a   
very twisted sort of way. It's like an invisible bond, but believe me. If   
his life was in danger he would sacrifice the sire in a flash. And he   
wouldn't think about it twice.   
  
"But as I said before. There are emotions ruling a person, or the demon that   
invades the person after one is turned. And the more issues a person carries   
around the more vicious the demon gets. With a soul those issues, those   
emotions are controlled. They might brake through now or then, but still,"   
he stopped for a moment, considered his next words. "I had a lot of issues.   
Especially with my father. So it was no wonder my demon went after my   
family, my village, first. I needed a long time to get rid of the feeling   
that if I hadn't resented my father, my demon wouldn't have gone after him."   
  
Almost unconsciously Buffy reached out and put a hand on his arm, "Angel-"   
she started, but he shook his head.   
  
"No. I've come around. I've accepted that it wasn't just my fault. My father   
made mistakes too. But by killing him my demon took all his chances to maybe   
change his ways and see his errors. I will never know if we would've found a   
way to forgive each other. But I know that I can't go on living with this   
kind of uncertainty inside of me. I finally accepted the fact that some   
issues in life have to stay unresolved. You have to move on sooner or   
later."   
  
She pulled her hand back, took her cup instead, as if to need something to   
prevent herself from reaching out again. His words held a lot of truth. Some   
of it was hitting a little too close to home for her comfort. Still, her   
face wore an expression of amazement, "You've come a long way, haven't you?"   
When she saw him smile, she smiled back, "It's... good," she said   
tentatively. "I always wondered how you might be without carrying all this   
guilt around."   
  
"Oh, don't think that," he replied, putting his cup down. "The guilt is   
still there. I just found a way to live with it, and not to let it rule me   
anymore. It doesn't go away. No matter how hard you try. But you accept it   
as a part of yourself. Or at least that's what I did."   
  
She felt his eyes on her when he said it, knew that he was watching her   
intently. Oh God, she thought in panic, putting her cup down, afraid she'd   
drop it, her hand was suddenly shaky. Had he guessed it? Did he know? And   
why shouldn't he, who knew more about guilt than Angel. Never in her life   
she had met a more sensitive person, or a person who could look through   
another in a second. And he knew her. He could probably guess...   
  
"I'm sure Joyce will come around."   
  
Her head jerked up and after staring at him for a moment, she released a   
pent up breath, desperately trying to hide the panic that was threatening to   
consume her. "I hope," she managed and tried to smile.   
  
"Buffy," he began, his eyes intense, and she felt the sudden urge to run and   
hide from him. Then he seemed to consider the situation for a moment and   
took a deep breath, "I think it's late. Maybe I'd better leave."   
  
"What?" She stared at him as if she wasn't able to comprehend.   
  
"It's after ten," he said gently, "After all you've been through you need   
your sleep."   
  
She laughed a bit too brightly, but nevertheless grateful he had changed the   
subject, "Is this a nice way of saying I don't need any more wrinkles?" she   
joked.   
  
"Of course not." He seemed so honestly shocked by her words that she had to   
smile and this time it was genuine. "You must know that you will always look   
beautiful, no matter what."   
  
She felt warmth spread through her whole being at his words, but pushed it   
away, still too much in turmoil about her mixed emotions. "Hardly the   
compliment I was fishing for," she joked again. Then sighed, "Oh, well, it   
will have to do." She stood and he did the same. Escorting him to the door,   
she said, "I'm glad you came."   
  
"Me too," he replied warmly, and she knew he meant it. "Maybe we could do it   
again. Some day. Maybe lunch... if you want," he asked cautiously, feeling   
almost breathless waiting for her answer.   
  
"I..." again, as she had done it in the park, she seemed to think about her   
answer for a moment. In the end she smiled, "Yes, I'd like that," she said   
and opened the door for him.   
  
He stepped out, then turned and caught her hand in his. Slowly he pulled it   
toward his mouth and when his lips were merely inches away, he whispered, "I   
can hardly wait." Then he kissed it, softly, his lips lingering a bit longer   
than necessary. When he finally let go, his voice was hoarse, "Sleep tight,"   
he said, turned and was gone.   
  
With a little sound of distress Buffy closed the door then just stood there   
and pressed the hand he'd just kissed against her cheek. She closed her eyes   
and swallowed hard. When she opened them again, a tear slipped from her eye   
and tickled down her cheek. Without a doubt she knew that sleep wouldn't be   
something she'd find tonight.   
  
... to be continued 


	10. Chapter Nine: Surprises In The Sunlight

Just Human, Chapter 9: SURPRISES IN THE SUNLIGHT   
  
Translation: the waiter, Giovanni, says "la bella bionda signora", and   
it means: the beautiful blond lady   
  
Buffy scolded herself inwardly for thinking about Angel again. But with an   
inward sigh she knew it was in vain. No matter how hard she tried to get him   
out of her head, it was no use. What annoyed her even more was the fact that   
she felt irritated that he hadn't called or come to her apartment so far.   
  
Three days ago he had gotten her to promise to have lunch with him some day   
and he hadn't called. Not once. You're an idiot, she told herself silently   
while strolling through the Sunnydale mall. It was the first time she'd come   
here since she'd stopped drinking a week ago. She needed some distraction to   
get her mind off her problems, namely Angel and Joyce.   
  
Her eldest daughter was still openly hostile towards her mother, talked to   
her only if there was no other way around it, had blocked all of Buffy's   
attempts to get her to move back home. The social worker had agreed that Ben   
and Marlie should go home with her mother, even encouraged it and explained   
to Willow that the stability of caring for kids was important for Buffy at   
the moment and that the children simply needed their mother. Willow had   
agreed wholeheartedly. It had distressed her a great deal to see her best   
friend so unhappy.   
  
Joyce was meant to go home as well, but she plainly refused. Willow and Tara   
had tried to talk to her, reason with her, but the girl was stubborn. With a   
shake of her head and a little laugh, Buffy had to admit that it was a   
streak that came from her. Riley had never really been stubborn. No, the   
former commando had been very understanding, loving and gentle with all of   
them. Sighing again, Buffy pushed another pang of guilt aside and tried to   
concentrate on the shops she was walking by. Maybe she would find something   
for Joyce.   
  
"Well, if that isn't the Buffster bright and ready to kick."   
  
Grinning, she looked up. There was no mistaking the voice, she'd known more   
than half her life, "Xand," she exclaimed happily. "What a surprise. Hey   
Tony," she greeted the little boy sitting astride his father's shoulders,   
grinning as well. Anthony Harris was three years old and center of   
everyone's attention in the Harris family. He'd come when nobody had   
expected him. Anya had already been in the fourth month until she'd realized   
she was really pregnant and after being stunned for a short while they had   
welcomed him with open arms. He was seven years younger than his next   
sibling, Jesse, with the twins being 14 now and his eldest brother, Alex,   
who was 16 and sometimes acted as if Tony was his own.   
  
"Buffy," the boy cried happily, reaching out his little arms towards here.   
  
"Now that's a guy after my own heart. Three years old and already a ladies   
man," Xander joked and removing the child from his shoulder he handed it to   
the blond.   
  
She smiled at him, one of her two oldest and best friends, streaks of gray   
in the hair at his temples, but the smile on his face still full of the same   
mischief it had always been. "What are you doing here?" she asked, holding   
Tony's little body close to hers.   
  
"I took a day off because Tony insisted of choosing the birthday present for   
his sisters all by himself."   
  
Buffy's eyes widened and then she slapped herself on the forehead, "Jenny's   
and Kerry's birthday, of course. They're going to be fifteen. My God, the   
time is racing."   
  
"True words of an adult," Xander remarked and grinned. "But you're right.   
It's hard to believe that we were ever been that young." He sighed almost   
dramatically and made Buffy grin. Grinning himself, he said, "We're having   
the party next week and of course you and the kids are invited. Jesse   
wouldn't be able to celebrate without Ben and I'm not sure, but I think Alex   
has a crush on your daughter."   
  
"God help me," Buffy groaned, but her grin didn't fade. "A long time ago, it   
seems like a lifetime, my mom said I had no idea what parenting was until my   
kids started dating, I had no idea how right she was."   
  
"The joys of parenthood," Xander said with all the knowledge of the   
five-time father. He reached out to swap his son back in his arms. "He's   
heavy," he remarked, ignoring the protest of his youngest, "and you're no   
slayer anymore."   
  
"Unfortunately," she replied, stretching her aching arms, "that's true. Most   
of the time I can't believe I miss it. But I do. Some nights I think it   
would be kind of neat to go out and pummel some demon or..." she trailed   
off, her gaze on Tony who was listening with curiosity. "Not the best   
subject at the moment," she said.   
  
"Oh, I don't mind. With Anya as a mother, they can't help knowing about a   
lot of strange things," he grimaced, "Tony's first word was demon."   
  
Buffy bit her lower lip and stifled a laugh. Anya's kid knowing the word   
demon before anything else was extremely amusing. It figured. "Well-" she   
started, but was cut off when Xander's expression suddenly changed to one of   
utter amazement, and he muttered, "Willow already told me he was human, but   
seeing him here in the sunlight. I think I need to sit down."   
  
"Huh?" Buffy stared at him for a moment, and then whirled around to see what   
had caused his sudden reaction. Of course she should have know, she told   
herself, when her eyes fell on Angel who was walking towards them wearing   
faded blue jeans that were snug enough to be like a second skin and a long   
sleeved colorful shirt. The clothes were so totally un-Angel, that she   
couldn't help gaping at him.   
  
He stopped a few feet away, his eyes flickering to Xander for a moment,   
before they rested on her, "Buffy," he smiled, taking another, tentative,   
step towards them. "Hello, Xander and hi," he said, grinning at Tony,   
"Whoever you are."   
  
"Angel," Buffy replied, a little bit annoyed with the joy that flooded her   
at his sight, "That's Tony. He's Xander's youngest."   
  
"Hi Tony," Angel said instantly and was rewarded by the boy with a wide grin   
and an enthusiastic, "Hi," in return.   
  
"Hey, Angel," Xander said, looking a little bit faint. Willow had told him   
about Angel being in Sunnydale, had even told him that he was human now, but   
to see the ex-vampire in the sunlight, wearing what other guys did, and   
looking the same as he had before, was a bit much. "You look... good."   
  
"Thanks," Angel took the compliment with an easy smile that made Buffy's   
stomach flutter. Gee, she was forty years old but being near Angel made her   
feel like a teenager.   
  
He directed his gaze at the blond, "I was looking for you. I tried to call   
you but you weren't at your apartment and Willow told me you were going to   
the mall."   
  
While Xander simply raised his brows, Buffy found herself smiling back at   
him, "Looking for me, huh? Whatever for?"   
  
"You said you would have lunch with me, maybe a cup of coffee?" he replied,   
then turned his wrist to look at his watch, "It's almost 12:30, so..." he   
trailed off, gazing at her expectantly.   
  
The ex-slayer's eyes widened slightly, "Oh... yeah, well..." she turned to   
look at Xander, but he held his hand up. "Don't look at me," he said. "Go,   
have your coffee. You've grown much too thin anyway," he grinned when he saw   
her roll her eyes. "Besides, Tony and I need to keep looking for a present   
for his sisters."   
  
Buffy gave her friend a last glance, then sighed, "Well, it seems I'm free.   
So coffee it is. Why don't we - oh shi..." she smiled apologetically at   
Xander, for her slip in front of his youngest, but he just grinned. "I mean,   
I forgot about the kids. I need to get Ben from school and then Marlie is   
with Willow today, I need to get her afterwards. I'm sorry, Angel, I can't."   
  
Angel was about to answer, when Xander put a hand on the blonde's shoulder,   
"No worries. I need to pick up Jesse, so I just take Ben too and drive him   
to Willow's. You can pick up both kids there later. What do you think?"   
  
Buffy bit her lower lip, "Only if-"   
  
"It's absolutely no problem," Xander said, quickly glancing at Angel. "Go,   
have some coffee. Enjoy your day." He practically shoved her towards the   
ex-vampire. "Have fun," he added and winked, then slowly walked away talking   
to his son, inwardly discussing if he might be possessed. Had he actually   
tried to give Buffy the opportunity to be with Angel?   
  
*   
  
They found a free table at a little coffee shop that had opened about two   
years ago. Willow and Buffy came to it from time to time to meet and just   
talk. The owner was Italian, and the witch swore he made the best coffee on   
this planet. When the waiter, whose name was Giovanni, spotted them, he came   
rushing over.   
  
"Ahhh, la bella bionda signora," he smiled appreciatively at Buffy, ignoring   
Angel's instant scowl.   
  
"Giovanni," Buffy smiled at him, then introduced Angel to him. "This is a   
friend of mine. Angel. We need some coffee, Giovanni. Decaf for me."   
  
The waiter rolled his eyes, but obediently wrote her order down. "Decaf," he   
shook his head while writing, "What a horrible American custom. Why drinking   
coffee at all if not for the caffeine?" he shook his head again, then   
shifted his gaze towards Angel, "Ah, I understand. What an appropriate   
name." His eyes traveled with the same expression over the ex-vampire as   
they had over Buffy just before and Angel couldn't help feeling   
uncomfortable. From the glimpse in the waiter's eyes it was unmistakable   
that the man was gay. It wasn't that Angel was a prude, but blame it on his   
18th century and Irish catholic upbringing that he didn't like the way   
Giovanni was looking at him. Inwardly the ex-vampire shook his head over his   
own behavior. He had been a vampire for 250 odd years and there was probably   
nothing on this planet he hadn't seen or done.   
  
He forced himself out of his thoughts when he saw Giovanni looking at him   
expectantly, "Espresso for me," he told him and with an approving nod the   
waiter left.   
  
Turning his head, Angel saw Buffy grinning at him, "It's kind of cute to see   
you like that," she remarked.   
  
"Like what?" he asked, but of course knew what she was talking about.   
  
"Like you don't know what to do. And to see that for all your long lifetime   
experience you're still very 18th century."   
  
He chuckled, "I just thought the same thing. I really don't mind people   
being gay or lesbian. I really don't. Hell, I even-" he stopped himself, not   
willing to go there, "But there is some part of me, deep down, I don't even   
realize it's there most of the time and then," he shook his head again,   
"zap, there it is."   
  
"I don't mind," she replied, smiling now, "I like you the way you are. Old   
fashioned manners and all. Do you know that you and maybe Giles are the only   
men I know who always get up when a woman is in the room? Xander doesn't   
even know what that means. Don't get me wrong. I love him dearly. He's one   
of the best friends I ever had, but he's hopeless."   
  
"He's Xander," Angel said with a mixture of sarcasm and humor in his voice   
that made Buffy laugh.   
  
"That's as true as can be. There isn't really a word in this world to   
describe him. Anya calls him unique," she laughed again, "And that from a   
woman who was a demon for over 1000 years and who's unique in her own way."   
  
"Slaying certainly provides an uncommon circle of friends," he replied with   
a smile.   
  
"Yeah," Buffy agreed, "but I couldn't wish for better ones. I was gifted   
with a father I never would've had otherwise, and with two friends who went   
with me through thick and thin."   
  
Angel wanted to comment, telling her that she'd also gotten a husband out of   
the whole deal, but Giovanni came and brought their coffees. Before the   
waiter left he winked at Angel, which made the ex-vampire groan as soon as   
he had left their table. When he saw Buffy grin wickedly, Angel glared at   
her, "It's not funny."   
  
"Oh, yes it is," she replied, laughing hard, "Usually the women are at the   
receiving end of such things. It's a nice change to see a man squirm   
instead."   
  
"I don't squirm."   
  
"Do too," she said, still grinning. "You said yourself that you don't like   
the way he's looking at you." She giggled, "He thinks you're a dish, and I   
can't really blame him." Suddenly realizing what had just slipped over her   
lips, she broke off in embarrassment and color began to rise up her neck.   
"I-" she started, averting her eyes, but he reached out and put one of his   
large hands on hers.   
  
"Don't," he said quietly, "I already told you, you are still beautiful,   
maybe even more, because you're a mature woman now, not the girl you once   
were. And I'm glad that you like looking at me. I mean, I'm not fixated on   
looks. Not at all, but it's part of the whole package and I'm really very   
attracted to it. The package, I mean. You." He ended with a smile, waiting   
for her to raise her head and look at him.   
  
"Angel, please, don't," she whispered, her voice anguished, she tried to   
pull her hand away.   
  
He didn't let her, "Buffy. You know that I'm attracted to you. I was from   
the first moment I saw you and that hasn't changed. And you would be a fool   
if you didn't know that I want a relationship with you. It's up to you what   
kind. And you're attracted to me."   
  
"I'm not-" she whispered a weak protest.   
  
"The hell you're not," he said forcefully, his voice rising. "Why are you   
denying it? I can feel your hand trembling in mine. I could see it in your   
eyes when I kissed your hand the last time we saw each other. Why are you   
fighting it? You're still a young woman, Buffy. There is so much waiting for   
you. Or did you love Riley so much that you want to spend the rest of your   
life mourning him?"   
  
Buffy stared at him as if he'd slapped her. She made a little noise of distress,   
and then clamped her free hand over her mouth to stop a moan. Her   
eyes were huge and full of pain. Pulling her hand away from his with all her   
might, she got clumsily to her feet, snatched her jacket from the back of   
her chair and yanked it on.   
  
Angel stood as well, "Buffy, I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching out, taking   
hold of her arm. "I didn't mean-"   
  
"Leave me alone!" she hissed. Tears were burning her eyes and she tried to   
pull free, to escape, before she would break down in front of him and cry.   
  
Oh, God, she couldn't do it.   
  
She couldn't bear this.   
  
She couldn't... couldn't... couldn't...   
  
"I don't want to be near you," she whispered, her voice anguished again, "I   
don't want... Just let go of me!"   
  
"Oh, hell," Angel ran his free hand through his hair, "I didn't mean to   
upset you, baby, I..."   
  
She twisted free and took a step back as her first tear fell. He stood   
there, looking so uncertain, so angry with himself for saying what he had,   
so distressed, and he didn't try to reach for her again. Taking a ragged   
breath, she wiped the tears away, "Don't call me baby," she hissed, ignoring   
the way her gut twisted at the sight of him, "I'm not your baby. I'm... Just   
stay away," she ordered, then turned and bolted from the coffee shop.   
  
*****   
  
The bottle looked so tempting. The liquid would soothe her nerves, would   
warm her from the inside, where she was so cold, so cold and alone. It would   
be so easy to give in, she thought, to forget the anguish and pain Angel's   
words had caused her.   
  
Buffy had run all the way home and only when she closed the door behind her,   
she allowed herself to relax a little bit.   
  
'Did you love Riley so much that you want to spend the rest of your life   
mourning him?' Angel had asked. God, he had no idea. He had absolutely no   
idea.   
  
"Of course he hasn't, how would he? You told him you loved Riley."   
  
Buffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Why was this happening to her,   
for God's sake? She wasn't a slayer anymore, so why on earth was her   
apartment suddenly haunted.   
  
"Because you need me," Joyce Summers said simply, materializing in the   
middle of her daughter's living room.   
  
"I don't need you," Buffy ground out through gritted teeth. "Not at all."   
  
"What do you need then?" her mother tilted her head and eyed the younger   
blond speculatively. "A glass of Bourbon? Well," she nodded at the untouched   
bottle on the shelf, "go ahead. Open it. But it won't change anything.   
Granted, you'll probably feel better for a little while, but the problems   
won't go away. They will still be waiting for you the moment, you wake up   
again. Nothing will change the fact that you never loved your husband."   
  
Buffy's head jerked around, and she stared at her mother, her breath ragged,   
"I did love Riley," she replied, her voice strained. "I loved him."   
  
"Yes, of course you did," Joyce said gently, "I should've tried to explain   
myself better. You loved him, yes. But you were never in love with him. You   
were married to him for almost 20 years. You had three children and he loved   
you more than anything in the world, but you-"   
  
"Stop," Buffy shouted, tears streaming down her face, "Stop," she pleaded,   
"Please, stop."   
  
"No," her mother said mercilessly, coming closer, "It's time to face the   
truth, honey. Running away from it, doesn't change it either. The reason why   
you push Angel away is that you feel guilty because you couldn't give Riley   
the kind of love you still feel for Angel. Am I right?"   
  
"NO," Buffy shouted again, frantically shaking her head, "No, no, no," she   
repeated like a mantra. "I did love Riley. I loved him. I loved... Oh God,"   
she moaned finally, breaking down on the floor, her whole body trembling,   
she folded her arms tightly around herself and rocked back and forth, sobs   
tearing from her throat, "Oh God," she moaned again. "I... I always hoped   
that given enough time I would fall in love with him. I tried, God, Mom, I   
tried."   
  
Mrs. Summers crouched down beside her daughter, cursing her ghostly   
appearance for the first time, because it prevented her from touching the   
tortured woman in front of her. "I know, honey, I know," she said softly. "I   
don't blame you. I would never do that. You blame yourself. You need to   
forgive yourself, Buffy."   
  
Her daughter raised her head, turned her tormented eyes on her mother, "How   
can I? I did something horrible. I married a man, a good man, who loved me   
dearly, but I never... not for one moment, could love him the way he   
deserved it. I betrayed him, Mom."   
  
"And now you're going to deny yourself that kind of love to punish   
yourself?" Joyce said, and it wasn't really a question. "Buffy, Riley was a   
grown man. Did you ever lie to him and tell him you loved him?"   
  
"I... not with words," her daughter said after a moment, "But that doesn't   
change-"   
  
"Anything, I know," her mother said gently and sighed. Then she tried   
another approach, "And what did Angel do to deserve this?" she asked.   
  
Buffy frowned, "What do you mean? Angel's got nothing to do with this."   
  
"Hasn't he?" Joyce raised her brows. "I think he has. Denying yourself love   
and give love also means you're denying it to him."   
  
"He'll find another woman," Buffy replied stubbornly, "He's too young for me   
anyway."   
  
Her mother had to chuckle, "Oh, Buffy. You know that's nonsense. Angel might   
still look like 26, but he isn't and you know it. He loves you. He always   
did. Do you think he would've been able to leave you, if he hadn't loved you   
the way he does? And don't tell me again, he'll find another one. After 20   
years he came back to you. He heard about Riley's death and only an hour   
later he sat in a car set on Sunnydale. He doesn't love you? He'll find   
another one? Try again, Buffy."   
  
"But..." the younger blond combed a hand through her hair, "I feel so   
guilty. Every time Angel smiles at me, every time he takes my hand I feel   
like I'm allowing myself to feel things I couldn't give Riley, things he   
couldn't make me feel."   
  
"You feel guilty," Joyce said simply, "I know. Do you know another person   
who felt guilty for a long time, probably still feels that way?"   
  
"Angel," Buffy whispered, wiping her tears away.   
  
"There you go," her mother replied, "Angel. So why don't you tell him how   
you feel about the two of you? Talk to him. If anyone knows how to deal with   
guilt, it's him. Why don't you let him help you, instead of pushing him   
away? Don't you think he'd understand what you're going through? Baby, don't   
bury yourself in pain and guilt. Life is too short. And think about your   
kids. They deserve a mother who's happy. I think the last six months were   
hard enough on them."   
  
Her daughter looked up and the eyes of the two women met, "Thanks, Mom,"   
Buffy whispered after a moment, "Thanks for being my mother. For being   
there."   
  
"I'm just a ghost," Joyce smiled at her.   
  
"Yeah," Buffy managed to smile as well. "A ghost. But you do a damn good job   
as one."   
  
"I'm sure they will be glad to hear it," the older woman replied.   
  
The ex-slayer quirked a brow, "They?"   
  
Her mother made a dismissive gesture with her hand, "Forget about it. For   
now, just try to think about yourself, your children and Angel. Will you   
promise me to try?"   
  
"Why?" Buffy asked, suddenly alarmed, "Are you going away? Won't we meet   
again?"   
  
"Maybe we will," Joyce smiled. "But for the moment I think my work is done.   
I love you, honey."   
  
"I love you too, mom," Buffy replied and watched as the image of her mother   
faded, leaving her alone in her living room. Yes, Angel knew about guilt.   
Maybe he could teach her how to deal with her own. Maybe he could help her   
find a way to help live with what she's done. And maybe, just maybe, then   
she could allow herself to be happy again.   
  
... to be continued 


	11. Chapter Ten: More Baby Steps and Lusty T...

Just Human, Chapter 10:MORE BABY STEPS AND LUSTY THOUGHTS   
  
Buffy sighed and looked around her apartment. It was neat and tidy and it   
was the dream of each hard working single mother, but this morning she   
wasn't happy about it. After Ben left for school and she'd walked Marlie to   
kindergarten, she'd come back eager to do something - anything. She would   
have gladly vacuumed or dusted or even washed dishes, but there was plain   
nothing to do for her.   
  
Which meant there was time to think. And although she knew her mother was   
right, it was painful to face the truth and Buffy still shied away from it.   
She wasn't sure she was ready to deal with it. With the fact that she hadn't   
loved her husband.   
  
No, she corrected herself immediately she had loved him. She had loved him   
dearly in fact, but she also loved Xander or Willow. The problem was that   
she hadn't been in love with Riley. Not for a minute.   
  
Riley had returned at a crucial point in her life, at a time where she'd   
been ready to give up, to let go and he'd carefully and patiently picked up   
the pieces and helped her to stand on her own feet again, to accept the fact   
that her mother and Dawn had died and that there was still a lot left to   
look forward to.   
  
And Buffy had needed him. God, how she needed him with his love, his   
attention, and his warmth. She had inhaled everything he'd given to her and   
given him nothing in return. Sure, she had married him, and still remembered   
the radiant smile on his face when she'd walked towards him in the church,   
and they had three children, but it wasn't the same. She had never felt for   
Riley what she felt for Angel, she had never loved Riley in that   
all-consuming way she loved, had always loved, Angel.   
  
And God help her, she'd known from the start. Even when she felt lost and   
lonely, when nothing made sense anymore, she knew that she was turning   
to Riley because it was comfortable, because he was familiar and because she   
trusted him. She had known that she didn't love him, but had accepted his   
proposal nevertheless. True, she had never lied to him, never pretended to   
feel something she didn't, but somehow that didn't make her feel better.   
  
Buffy had once told Willow about her confused feelings and in true Willow   
fashion the witch had smiled gently and told her the story of Oz and Tara.   
Which, Buffy had to admit was a lot like her own. Willow had loved Oz, with   
all her heart, with her soul. He had left and in an attempt to avoid   
loneliness she had found love and warmth where she'd never expected it, in   
the arms of another woman. Her love for Tara, so Willow had told Buffy, was   
comfortable, more quiet, and safe. Oz had hurt her badly by leaving, by   
getting naked with another woman, and so she'd looked for something safe,   
something that wouldn't hurt as badly again.   
  
The difference was that gradually it had changed and Willow's love for Tara   
these days was as strong as ever, and the redhead had told her friend that   
after a few years she'd fallen in love with the other witch. That had never   
happened to Buffy with Riley. Of course she never told Willow that. The   
witch wouldn't have understood. She would've looked sternly and told Buffy,   
she was grown up now and needed to move on.   
  
So deep inside, Buffy had always known, that her feelings for Riley weren't   
even close to what she felt for Angel. But she had kept hoping, for a   
miracle, for what had happened to Willow, had hoped that one day she would   
wake up and be madly in love with Riley. It had never happened, and it never   
would because he was dead now. Which was one of the main problems. There   
wasn't a way to make it up to him now. She couldn't go on being the perfect,   
understanding wife for him anymore. She had to face the fact that he had   
never received the same love he'd so freely given to her.   
  
By accepting Angel back in her life, she would have to admit it. She would   
be confronted with those feelings on a daily basis, would feel the   
difference in every caress, every kiss, and every look he gave her. The jolt   
she'd felt when he'd laid his hand on hers yesterday in the coffee shop had   
shaken her to the bone. She would have to admit that Riley had never been   
more than a substitute, a second best, because she hadn't been able to have   
the real thing.   
  
Was she able to do it, she wondered? Yesterday, shortly after her mother had   
vanished, she'd been sure, she would - with Angel's help. But could she   
really? Could she deal with the constant guilt? Or would it kill her love   
for Angel in the end?   
  
'You'll never know without risking it,' her mother's voice floated through   
the air and Buffy whirled around, but saw nobody. She closed her eyes for a   
moment. Yes, that was true. She would never know without risking it. And she   
would never stop asking herself what would've happened if she hadn't at   
least tried.   
  
Opening her eyes again, she took a deep breath and reached for the phone.   
  
*****   
  
One of the disadvantages of being human was that a mortal body needed rest   
more regularly than a vampire's. Angel had almost forgotten about that, but   
he hadn't slept at all last night, and there wasn't much human in the way he   
felt this morning.   
  
After Buffy had run from the coffee shop he had managed to pay their drinks   
and after aimlessly wandering around in Sunnydale for hours, without being   
able to find a solution for the turmoil in his head, he'd called Willow to   
ask her to look after Buffy. He hadn't elaborated why he was worried, and   
the redhead, bless her, hadn't asked. Half an hour later she'd called him   
back and told him that Buffy had been with her to collect her children, and   
that besides red eyes from crying she seemed fine.   
  
Fine.   
  
Angel snorted. Buffy was many things, she was smart, she was breathtakingly   
beautiful, she was the woman he wanted more than anything, but most   
certainly she wasn't fine. Not after what he'd said to her in the coffee   
shop. He had to be the single stupidest guy on the planet. It seemed where   
Buffy was concerned he wasn't able to act reasonable.   
  
First he'd kissed her like some madman at the hospital, and although he was   
sure she had enjoyed being kissed, he wasn't proud that he'd acted the way   
he had. And after she'd forgiven him for that, and everything seemed to go   
smoothly for a change he had to throw Riley in her face. Well done,   
Angel. And maybe you could go and kick a dog or slap a child and then you'd   
be a real sweetheart.   
  
He ran a hand through his hair and then over his face, taking note that he   
needed to shave. Sighing he walked over to the bathroom, smiling when his   
eyes fell on the electric razor, the way he always did and his thoughts   
wandered to Cordelia. The brunette had insisted he was going to use an   
electric razor after he turned human. She'd said there had been enough blood   
in her life already and she wouldn't stand by and watch Angel cutting   
himself on a regular basis.   
  
He chuckled and started the razor, when suddenly his cell phone rang. He put   
the razor down and answered it, "Yes, Angel here."   
  
"Hi."   
  
The phone almost dropped from his hand, "Buffy?" he asked in shock, not   
daring to believe that she was really talking to him.   
  
"Yeah," she sounded a bit uncertain and hesitant.   
  
"God, Buffy," he said, "I'm so-"   
  
"Don't say it," she interrupted him and he heard her taking a deep breath,   
"Angel, I... I think we need to talk. Could you... if you don't have   
anything-"   
  
"No," this time he interrupted her. "I don't have anything to do."   
  
There was a smile in her voice when she continued, "Good. Then would you   
come over? Say in about an hour. Could you do that?"   
  
"Yes," he answered quickly, afraid she would take her offer back.   
  
"Okay," she sounded relieved and anxious at the same time, "See you then."   
  
"Yes, see you," he replied and switched the phone off with a stunned   
expression on his face. Then, quickly he went for the bathroom, all fatigue   
suddenly vanished.   
  
*****   
  
Tentatively Willow knocked at the door to Joyce's room and when she heard   
her call, she entered, "Hi," she said and smiled at the teenager who was   
lying sprawled on her bed. "I just wanted to see how you are."   
  
"I'm fine," Joyce replied, not looking up. "It's a bit boring, but I'm not   
really sad that our English and Math teachers are both having the flu."   
  
"I'll bet," the witch said with a twinkle in her eyes. "What are you doing?"   
she asked, nodding at the magazine in front of the girl.   
  
"Nothing," Joyce sighed and threw it on the floor. "Willow," she asked   
suddenly, staring at the ceiling, "Can I ask you something?"   
  
"Of course." The redhead closed the door behind her, and sat down at the   
edge of the bed, "You can ask me what you want."   
  
"Do you think I'm a bad person?"   
  
Willow frowned, stunned by the question, wondering how a girl of Joyce's age   
could ask something like that. "A bad person?" she echoed. "Why would you   
think that?"   
  
Joyce shrugged, "I don't know. Did you hear about Marlie and Ben? Are they   
okay?"   
  
A bit surprised with the change of the subject, Willow needed a moment to   
answer, "Yes. Yes, they're fine. In fact they were both here yesterday. I   
was very sorry that you had to stay in school the whole day and couldn't see   
them. Your mother came too."   
  
Something flickered over the girl's face, but it was soon gone, "So Mom's   
staying sober for a change?" she asked sarcastically.   
  
"Yes," the witch replied, "Buffy seems to... she's Buffy again. I'm so   
happy. She had a hard time, Joyce. She had to deal with a lot."   
  
"Yeah, her husband died," Joyce burst out, sitting upright on her bed, "but   
he was my dad too. I miss him too, but I didn't go and drink myself half to   
death."   
  
"No, you didn't," Willow said gently, "And that's good. It seems you're very   
strong. But, Joyce, losing a husband is different than losing a parent. Or   
maybe Buffy isn't as strong as you. Honey, she never did it to hurt you. I   
think, she just... couldn't deal for a while."   
  
The teenager jumped up, whirled around and glared at Willow, "Yeah. Sure.   
Mom couldn't deal. Well, too bad. Nobody ever asked me if I could deal," she   
shouted, tears springing in her eyes, "I lost my dad. I loved my dad," her   
voice cracked, "I mis- miss him, oh God," she moaned, "Willow I miss him so   
much."   
  
With two strides Willow was by her side and folded the trembling girl in her   
arms. Stroking her back and head, the witch whispered, "Shhh, it's okay.   
Shhh. I know you miss him."   
  
"I w-wanted to t-talk w-with mom, but sh-she," Joyce sobbed, and then broke   
off, crying hard on the redhead's shoulder.   
  
"I know, sweetheart, I know," Willow said gently and continued stroking the   
girl. "It was as if you lost her as well, wasn't it?"   
  
"Y-yes," Joyce sniffed, slightly pulling back.   
  
"Then why don't you go and try to talk to her now? I know she's at home and   
I just know that she's dying to see you. Take a shower, get dressed and go   
home."   
  
"You think?" Joyce asked with the voice of a small child.   
  
"Yes, I do," Willow said firmly, smiling at the girl, framing her face with   
her hands. "Your mother loves you very much, Joyce. And she needs you. Just   
the way you need her."   
  
*****   
  
Buffy switched the phone off and stared at it. Had she done the right thing,   
she wondered? Well, she had to talk to Angel. She couldn't leave the   
situation the way it was. They might not have seen each other for a long   
time, and she had no idea what would come out of this meeting, but Angel   
meant too much to her to just ignore him.   
  
Meant too much to her. That was the joke of the century. There had been a   
time when he'd meant everything to her and she knew that it could easily   
happen again. Of course there were her children and she loved them, but   
already she could feel the familiar longing, now that she had accepted her   
feelings and was determined to face them. She could feel her heart beating   
faster only thinking he would be here soon.   
  
He was attracted to her, he had said and Buffy wasn't young and stupid   
enough anymore to mistake his intentions. He wanted to make love to her.   
Every gesture, every look he gave her, told her that as clear as day. He was   
human now, the curse was gone and there was no reason for him to hold back   
anymore. If she agreed to have a relationship with him, it would sooner or   
later lead to one thing. Sex.   
  
But unlike on her 17th birthday she felt nervous about it. No, that was   
wrong. She had been nervous on her 17th birthday. But it had been different.   
It had been that kind of nervous you were when you didn't know what to   
expect. She had been a virgin then, inexperienced and Angel had expected her   
not to know about the real thing.   
  
But now, 23 years and two lovers later, one of them her husband of 18 years,   
a man with whom she had shared bed and body almost each night, she was   
surely expected to know things. And yet, she didn't. Of course she knew what   
was going on. Of course Riley and she had done more than just one position,   
but their marriage, their love-making had never been wild passion, had never   
been out of control. It had been gentle and loving most of the times and so   
even after 23 years she felt inadequate. Inadequate for a person who had   
lived more than 250 years and whose sexual experience went far beyond her   
imagination.   
  
Angel had been gentle and understanding that first and only time, he'd been   
careful not to hurt her, hadn't thought about himself, not for a moment.   
Now, things were different. She was a grown woman and he had a right to   
expect things. Had a right to think about satisfying his needs.   
  
But how on earth was she going to satisfy a lover like him? A lover who had   
lived over 250 years. Who had slept with hundreds of women, had probably   
done everything and knew everything about sex and making love. She and Riley   
had never used jeweled handcuffs - or handcuffs at all, for that matter - or   
the other kinky stuff that was so modern these days.   
  
Would Angel think she was boring because she didn't know about these things?   
Would he lose interest after one or two times? And God, she didn't want him   
to lose interest. Her whole life she had wanted nothing more than to be with   
this man and now that he was available she wanted to hold him - forever. And   
she would hold him even if that meant embarrassing herself by walking into a   
bookstore to buy the Karma Sutra.   
  
It would be hard enough to deal with all the looks from young women seeing   
her with a man who seemed so much younger than her. And even if she didn't   
look like 40 the mere fact that her oldest child would be 18 in six months   
told the whole story. People would look at her, and then at Joyce and then   
at Angel and wonder what that old woman did with her daughter and her   
daughter's boyfriend.   
  
Oh God, don't even go there, she scolded herself. And besides Angel was   
coming to talk and she was already planning to seduce him. If she could   
seduce him, that is. She had never needed to seduce Riley. If she thought   
back the initiative for sex had always come from him. Or mostly.   
  
How did you seduce an ex-vampire?   
  
Suddenly catching on to what she was thinking, Buffy rolled her eyes over   
herself. Get a hold on yourself, Summers, she scolded inwardly. Keep your   
lusty thoughts to yourself and your hormones in check. Angel would hardly   
appreciate it if you throw yourself at him. "Down girl," she ordered aloud   
and firmly pushing naughty images away she went to the kitchen to make some   
coffee.   
  
... to be continued 


	12. Chapter Eleven: Unexpected Discoveries

Just Human, Chapter 11: UNEXPECTED DISCOVERIES   
  
"Hi."   
  
She stood there like an angel, smiling at him, inviting him in with her eyes   
and Angel almost forgot how to breathe. Had he thought she was beautiful? He   
was wrong she was overwhelmingly exquisite. Her blond hair fell loose and   
was shining like gold. Her hazel eyes sparkled and unlike the other times,   
she'd even carefully applied makeup. She wore black slacks and a white, long   
sleeved blouse.   
  
"Hi," he managed finally glad his voice was working at all.   
  
"Come in," she said and then led him to the living room, a way he knew by   
now. "I just made fresh coffee. Do you want some?"   
  
"Is it decaf?" he asked and was rewarded with another of her smiles.   
  
"Why don't you like it?" she wanted to know.   
  
He shrugged, "I'm not quite sure, but it could have something to do with the   
fact that Cordy likes decaf. I really like her, you know, but her coffee is   
something to be remembered." He shuddered slightly and Buffy laughed. "How   
Wesley's able to stand it is beyond me."   
  
"I'm sure they make quite a couple," she replied, and handed him a cup she'd   
just filled. "It's decaf," she said, "but unlike Cordy, I *can* make good   
coffee."   
  
"Thanks," he smiled at her and sipped. "Mmmm, good. You're right. Maybe   
you'll be able to cure me of my decaf aversity after all." Sipping again,   
he sobered, "I know it sounds old, but I have to start with an apology. I   
shouldn't have asked you what I did in the coffee shop. I had no right-"   
  
"No you didn't," she interrupted him, but her voice wasn't angry. On the   
contrary it was soft. "But I don't mind. Not anymore." She gestured at the   
seats and the sofa standing on one side and Angel walked over to sit down.   
"It's more complicated, I'm afraid. You asked me if I loved Riley so much   
that I wanted to mourn him the rest of my life? The answer to this question   
is yes and no."   
  
"I don't quite understand..."   
  
"I know," she replied, settling deeper in the sofa, as if it could shelter   
her. "I married Riley when I was on the edge. He came and saved me from,   
well, I guess you could say myself." She smiled slightly, "Without him I   
might actually be dead. I owe him so much. More than I can say." She saw   
Angel watching her intently and went on, "Riley left me. Mom died and   
then Dawn... Lets just say, I wasn't coping very well."   
  
She laughed shortly, it wasn't a happy sound, "Coping. Hell, I didn't cope   
at all. I didn't want to see my friends anymore, tried to get away from   
them, tried to estrange them, so that I wouldn't lose another friend, I even   
avoided Giles..." she sighed deeply, "It wasn't pretty. I was barely   
recognizable. I lost weight and slaying was the only thing I still did,   
living on the edge of being suicidal, maybe inwardly hoping that one vampire   
might be too strong and end the life I hated. You wouldn't have wanted to   
see me."   
  
But he had, Angel thought sadly. He could clearly remember his visit to   
Sunnydale, staying in the shadows, far away from her, so that she wouldn't   
sense him. He could remember the lost, empty look in her eyes, could   
remember that she hadn't been more than a fighting machine, burying her   
emotions deep, trying to be just a slayer - not a human being.   
  
And it had been that visit that had him writing a letter on a Christmas Eve   
so many years ago. A letter he'd written with tears in his eyes and finally   
sent to Riley, the only person he could see helping her, because Buffy loved   
the commando, had told him so herself. So he hoped Riley would be able to   
help, in a way Angel couldn't, mustn't.   
  
"Anyways," Buffy continued, interrupting his short walk down memory lane,   
"He pulled me back from the edge and then he asked me to marry him. I was   
so alone and I owed him so much that I said yes. And it wasn't bad or   
anything. Our marriage was filled with friendship, understanding and," she   
smiled now, "with three wonderful children. But," she took a deep breath, "I   
never loved him, or rather never was in love with him." She looked at Angel   
uncertain of his reaction, uncertain how he would take what she'd just   
revealed.   
  
He looked a little dazed. And she couldn't really blame him. Long ago, she'd   
told him she loved Riley, deliberately letting him believe she meant she was   
in love with the commando. She'd been hurt then and wanted to hurt him back.   
  
"You," he said finally and his voice sounded hoarse, "You," he started   
again, but his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat, "weren't in   
love with him?" There was so much disbelief in his voice that Buffy almost   
laughed.   
  
But she didn't. Instead she said simply," No."   
  
"You didn't love him?" he asked again. "Ever?"   
  
"I loved him like a friend. He was a good man. A wonderful father, but no, I   
was never in love with him and that was..." her voice trailed off and she   
stared when Angel slid from his seat and kneeled in front of her, his   
trembling hands reaching for her face, cupping it, holding it.   
  
"You didn't love him," he whispered, his voice awed, his eyes moist and so   
full of emotions, it took her breath away.   
  
She couldn't speak and instead shook her head in the negative, her own eyes   
growing moist as well, "Angel," she finally managed to whisper his name.   
  
And then he kissed her. And instantly her body reacted, remembering all the   
secret and not so secret kisses they had shared what seemed a lifetime ago,   
then again seemed as if it had just been yesterday. But at the same time,   
this was much more powerful, than anything she remembered, it was sizzling,   
a bursting of stars the moment his lips met hers.   
  
His mouth on hers was the same she remembered, his lips soft and yet hard   
and demanding, and she felt a powerful jolt of lust shooting through her   
when his tongue swept past her parted lips and invaded her mouth, tasting,   
teasing, tempting.   
  
This was more, so much more, and it had just begun. Hysterical laughter   
bubbled up inside of her, then subsided again. Hadn't she fantasized about   
making love to Angel just a few hours ago? Then thrown the thought aside, as   
being ridiculous. And now, they were right in the middle.   
  
Buffy had thought she knew her body, had thought she knew it better than   
most people, was familiar with its reactions, because she had worked it to   
peak physical condition, she'd pushed it to its limits and sometimes over   
them, she'd put it under stress, also mental, and thought she knew.   
  
But now, when Angel kissed her, kissed her again after twenty-two years it   
seemed like she knew nothing. She had been a girl when he'd kissed her all   
those years ago, had still been a girl when they'd made love. But now she   
was a grown woman, a woman who had had sex almost all her life, but in an   
instant everything seemed to vanish into oblivion.   
  
With a growling sound he rose on his knees, wrapped his arms around her and   
pulled her down with him on the floor. Her breath left in a rush at the   
feeling of his solid chest pressed against her breasts that were only   
covered by the thin material of her blouse and a strapless bra. She lifted   
her hands, helplessly, in need to touch him, more than anything she'd ever   
needed.   
  
She needed to touch skin, she decided and with a flick of her wrists she   
tore his shirt apart, making the buttons fly allover the room. He let go of   
her mouth for a moment, and she could see the surprise, but also the joy in   
his eyes. She struggled to remove his arms from his sleeves and then the   
shirt slipped on the floor, leaving his chest bare, and Buffy almost lost it   
that very moment, seeing it sculptured and perfect, exactly the same way she   
remembered.   
  
His lips met hers again, while her hands found his nipples and brushed over   
them. He moaned into her mouth and it was the most erotic moment she could   
remember. Desire slammed through her with a force, she had never felt   
before. Her own nipples hardened in reaction as she tried to imagine him   
doing the same to her.   
  
Angel deepened the kiss, tasting more of her, their tongues dueling, she   
felt him shudder, and did the same when his hands pulled her closer, brought   
her hips in contact with his. He was hard as a rock, she noticed and it sent   
another jolt trough her entire system. She shifted her body, pressing   
against him and Angel groaned deep in his throat.   
  
Angel broke the kiss, and for a moment they just stared at each other, both   
pairs of eyes dark with passion, their lips swollen from kissing.   
  
"Angel," she whispered.   
  
"Tell me," his voice was hoarse, "if you want me to stop you need to tell me   
now. Because later I'm not sure if I can."   
  
For a microsecond there was guilt again, the feeling of betraying a man she   
hadn't been able to love, but then she focused on Angel again and was lost.   
"I don't want you to stop."   
  
Her answer was another groan, and he slowly stood, pulling her with him,   
holding her. "Your bedroom?" he asked.   
  
"To the left," she managed, almost wild with want. "Hurry," she urged and he   
lifted her in his arms, claiming her mouth again and maneuvering them into   
her bedroom.   
  
*   
  
Later, after their breathing had come back to normal, after their hearts   
weren't pounding in their chests anymore, they lay on the bed on their   
sides, facing each other, Angel's hand laying loosely, but possessively on   
her hip, while she had thrown her leg over his.   
  
He arched a brow when she chuckled slightly. "What?" he asked.   
  
"This wasn't actually the kind of talk I was thinking about when I called   
you today," she said, reaching out with one hand and stroking his cheek. It   
was different now. Not smooth as it had been, but rough, and it reminded her   
that he wasn't a vampire anymore. He was growing a beard like all other   
male human beings.   
  
Angel grinned at her words, "Really?" he teased.   
  
"Angel," she scolded and slapped his chest. "Be serious. I called you   
because I needed to talk to you. And I do. Need to talk to you, I mean. I   
need to. There are things," she frowned, "things we need... you need to   
know. Things that were... the cause for my drinking, I think."   
  
He sat up in bed, his eyes resting on her with concern and love, "Go on," he   
encouraged.   
  
"It's about Riley." She saw him flinch slightly, and put a hand on his arm.   
"I know it's not the kind of subject you want to discuss after making love   
to me, but... I need to-"   
  
"It's okay," he said gently, lifting his arm and turning it, so that he   
could take her hand in his. "Tell me."   
  
"I feel like I betrayed him. Not now, not because I slept with you. He's   
dead, and I'm free to make love with someone else. But because I couldn't love   
him. You know. Because he was with me, he couldn't be with anyone else. I   
couldn't feel for him the way I... I feel for you," she admitted and smiled when   
she saw the love in his eyes. "He was with me and not free to find a woman who   
could give him what I never could."   
  
"Do you really think he would see it that way?" Angel asked, running his   
fingertips up and down her side, marveling at the feeling of her soft and   
creamy skin.   
  
"He should. I loved Riley I really loved him. Not in the beginning, but it   
came on gradually. Yet I never was *in* love with him. What I felt for him   
was... God, it's horrible to say, but it was merely comfortable. Trusting.   
It was never what we have. There was never this mind-blowing passion."   
  
Angel couldn't help but grin. He was so deliriously happy at the moment, he   
wanted to shout it out loud. And hearing her actually say what he had felt   
just before made him feel like the king of the world, "Mind-blowing, huh?"   
  
Buffy scowled at him playfully, "Don't start flying now," she joked," but   
yeah, it was mind-blowing. It is mind-blowing. When I'm near you, when I   
touch you it's... more than I felt when Riley was buried deep inside of me."   
  
He winced and grimaced slightly, "That was an image I so don't need," he   
muttered.   
  
She caressed his cheek, "I'm sorry," she said softly, "But we don't need to   
pretend that I didn't sleep with him. I have three beautiful children to   
prove it. We were married for eighteen years. But what I want you to   
understand is that it wasn't the same. It couldn't be. And a part of me, a   
big part, feels guilty for it. For not having been able to give him what I   
can give you, for not being able to feel for him what I feel when you touch   
me."   
  
Angel thought about a letter he'd written so long ago. A letter where he'd   
tried to tell Riley that Buffy needed him, that he had to come back and that   
he shouldn't hesitate if he loved her. If anyone had forced Riley to be with   
Buffy it was him, but certainly not the woman who was lying gloriously naked   
beside him. "That's not your fault, Buffy. You didn't force him to be with   
you. He decided he wanted to be your husband. And by God, I envy him for   
each second he spent with you. I'm jealous like hell, that he gave you the   
children I couldn't, that he was able to sleep by your side, to hold you, to   
tell you that you were the most wonderful being on this planet."   
  
"Oh, Angel," she whispered, when he ended his declaration. He hadn't said he   
loved her so far, she hadn't said it either, she suddenly realized. Maybe   
they weren't ready to say the words; maybe he sensed she wasn't ready to   
hear them. But it was clear as day that Angel loved her. And if she wasn't   
completely wrong, he had never stopped loving her. Just the way her mother   
had told her.   
  
"Buffy," he whispered her name and their lips met again, passion instantly   
spiraling out of control, her mind shutting down everything except the man   
who was kissing and stroking her. Nothing was important that moment, only   
Angel. And with a moan she let herself fall.   
  
*   
  
Buffy snuggled deeper into Angel's embrace, not caring for the fact that it   
was in the middle of the day. She never wanted to move away from him, never   
again wanted to miss the feeling of his arms surrounding her. It was heaven.   
The kind of heaven she'd always dreamed of, the heaven she'd tried to forget   
in order to move on with her life.   
  
Sighing happily she kissed his bare chest and smiled when she heard a rumble   
deep inside and his arms tightened reflexively. She would stay here, she   
decided. She would just refuse to move. She would just forget the world   
outside and continue making love to Angel.   
  
"OH MY GOD!"   
  
Of course the outside world had the nasty habit to intrude without asking.   
  
Buffy and Angel bolted upright in bed, the ex-slayer clutching the sheet   
against her breasts, staring with horror in her eyes at her daughter who was   
standing in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at her mother and the man   
beside her with an equal expression on her face.   
  
"MOM," Joyce shouted, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"   
  
"What does it look like?" Buffy replied weakly, feeling faint. It was a   
mother's nightmare. Her almost grown up daughter finding her in bed with her   
lover. Certainly there were more terrible things happening around them,   
Buffy thought, but at the moment, she couldn't remember a single one of   
them.   
  
"God," her daughter. "That's... that's," she stammered, tears welling up in   
her eyes. "You're disgusting," she shouted. "I don't want to see you ever   
again." With this Joyce turned and flew from the apartment.   
  
... to be continued   
  
Note: There is a NC-17 version available of this part. If you want it, just mail me: Connemara.Scarlets@t-online.de 


	13. Chapter Twelve: Oder Women and Younger M...

Just Human, Chapter 12: OLDER WOMEN AND YOUNGER MEN   
  
Joyce Finn ran as if her life depended on it. She couldn't remember ever   
having ran so fast in her life. Usually she wasn't very much for running.   
She didn't have a problem with it either, but she wasn't much for working   
out, gymnastics or even worse, being a cheerleader. So it was very unusual   
for her to run, more so as it was in the middle of a warm Californian day.   
  
After half a mile she was totally exhausted, sweat was streaming down her   
body, and her lungs felt as if they were going to explode at any moment. She   
couldn't run anymore, she had to slow down. So she did it. Slightly. No, she   
was certain that she never ran like this before. But then, it didn't happen   
every day that you came home and found your mother with her lover.   
  
In bed.   
  
Naked.   
  
Using her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her face, Joyce closed her eyes for   
a moment in disgust. It was bad enough to know that her parents had a sex   
life. Parents were... well, parents. They were older. Much older. And older   
people and sex just didn't mix. But of course Joyce wasn't as naive as to   
believe that her siblings had come through some miracle. She knew her   
parents had sex. It had been bad enough to accept that.   
  
But now she'd found her mother with another man. God, her father was dead   
for only half a year and her mother had been jumping... she shuddered   
slightly and suppressed a sob. As much as she had hated the fact that her   
mother was drinking and had given up life and with it, her children, it had   
been comforting to think she was so broken about her husband's death that   
she couldn't stand living without him.   
  
As of today that idea didn't work anymore. Her mother had a lover. Sheesh.   
Her mother was supposed to be her mother. Mourning her father. Not   
screwing... Another tremor ran through her body while her mind refused to   
accept what she had seen. That her mother was having sex, was sleeping, was   
getting naked with a man, who was not her father. A man who quite obviously   
was younger. Much, much younger. As if the situation wasn't bad enough. Her   
mom had to go and find herself a lover who looked as if he was just a couple   
years older than Joyce.   
  
The girl stopped dead in tracks. She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes   
widened, and she felt suddenly weak. Reaching for the next car, she held   
onto it, until she was sure she wouldn't break down here and now.   
  
Holy Cow.   
  
She knew the man she had seen in her mother's bed. The bed her parents had   
once shared. She hadn't paid much attention to him at first, too angry with   
her mother. But now, when she recalled the situation in her mind, her mother   
clutching a sheet to cover her nudity, her lover... Jesus Bleeding Christ.   
She knew exactly who the guy was. She had seen him. Even flirted with him.   
He had asked her for the directions to her house. It had been the guy in the   
convertible, the guy who had made her heart pound faster, the guy she had   
hoped to see again, maybe to get to know him better.   
  
Oh, well, she thought sarcastically, she would certainly get to know him   
better now. He was screwing her mother after all. God, this was too much.   
Not that it wasn't bad enough that her mother was sleeping with another man.   
No, it had to be a man, Joyce remembered finding dangerously attractive,   
even admitted to have a little bit of a crush on.   
  
What the hell was she going to do now? She had no idea what to do. But one   
thing was absolutely certain. There was no way her mother could go on being   
with this guy. Not just because her daughter had the hots for him, Joyce   
wouldn't even allow herself to think of him that way anymore, after his   
hands had been allover her mother, no, but because it just wasn't right.   
There was still her father, who had just died and then... older women didn't   
date younger men.   
  
Willow.   
  
The name shot through her head and a smile split up her face. Willow would   
know what to do. Yes, she would talk to Willow. The redhead was the voice of   
reason. And she surely would be able to talk some sense into her mother too.   
  
*****   
  
"Buffy, calm down," Angel said, stepping into his pants, then went into the   
living room only to realize that Buffy hadn't exaggerated about his shirt.   
It was torn. There was no way he could wear it. Not only were the buttons   
all torn off, no there were holes in it as if some oversized kitten had   
tried to claw through it. He had to smile at the image. Yes, there were   
certainly similarities between Buffy and a kitten. His smile became wicked   
for a second, but vanished completely, when Buffy stormed in the living   
room, her hair tousled, but completely dressed, her face slightly panicked.   
  
"Calm down?" she echoed. "Joyce just found her mother in bed with another   
man. A man who wasn't her father."   
  
"Thanks to God for it," Angel muttered under his breath.   
  
She glared at him for a second, and then went on, "Her father, who by the   
way only died six months ago." She stopped and looked at him, hands firmly   
planted at her hips, "Tell me, how would you feel if you were her?"   
  
Angel considered it for a second, and then grimaced, "Point taken," he said,   
not really knowing what to do. Joyce had left so fast they hadn't even had   
an opportunity to call her back, too shocked by the unexpected confrontation   
in the bedroom. "Still," he said then, "What do you want to do? She's   
probably very angry right now. There's no way she's going to talk to you at   
the moment. And even if she did, what would you tell her? The situation was   
pretty obvious. We were naked in bed. And we were having sex."   
  
"I know that," Buffy bit out through gritted teeth.   
  
"Buffy," he said gently, "She needs time. Most of all she needs time to   
think this through. I'm sure she's a bright girl. She'll realize that this   
had nothing to do with her father, and she will come to accept that her   
mother is still part of the living. That her mother is still free to love,"   
he stepped closer, slowly, tentatively, "Because her mother is a beautiful   
woman, who cannot stop living at the age of forty, just to keep the memory   
of a dead man alive and her daughter happy."   
  
Finally he was standing only a foot away, but he didn't dare reaching out for her   
although he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and make all   
the hurt and pain go away.   
  
Averting her eyes, Buffy released a pent up breath and Angel could see her   
blinking rapidly, then she combed a shaky hand through her hair. "God,   
Angel," she said, rising her head, looking at him, "This is one of the worst   
moments in my life. She looked so hurt... so shaken to the core. I don't   
know if she'll ever forgive me."   
  
"Forgive you for what?" he asked, feeling anger rising in him. "For having a   
life? For sleeping with a man? For finding love? Buffy, there is nothing   
you've done that needs forgiving. Stop feeling guilty all the time. I know   
that sounds as if it's easy. But it isn't. Still you have to stop. Because   
if you don't we won't have a chance. Because then your children, and in your   
case Joyce, will tell you what to do. She'll use your guilt to her   
advantage."   
  
She looked at him and Angel felt an icy hand gripping his heart when he saw   
the warmth disappear from Buffy's eyes, when they seemed to shut down and   
when she finally raised a brow in some sort of mocking gesture, "And who's   
telling you I want a chance with you?" she asked, her voice cool and   
controlled. "Okay, so we jumped in the sack together. But that doesn't mean   
there's more to it."   
  
"Like hell it isn't," he shouted, his anger getting the best of him. "I know   
you, Buffy. You can say what you want, but what just happened meant   
something. It was important for both of us. Don't try telling me it wasn't   
because I know better."   
  
She shrugged, "Believe what you want. For me, the past hours were nothing   
but sex. Granted, it was mind-blowing and really good, but still nothing   
more than sex."   
  
God, she was building walls so fast, Angel thought, feeling panic rising.   
The walls were coming up so fast, he had no idea how to tear then down   
again. "That's a lie and you know it. The way you were talking to me-"   
  
"Pillow-talk," she threw at him, looking almost bored. "Angel, women will   
tell you a lot after sex. You should know that, but then, you didn't have a   
lot of practice lately, right? Well, believe me. Women tell a lot of stuff   
after a good fuck."   
  
"Oh God," he moaned, feeling sick all of a sudden, "Don't do this, Buffy,"   
he pleaded, reaching out for her. She instantly stepped away, out of his   
reach. "I know you still have problems dealing with your guilt about Riley.   
And now Joyce..." he shook his head, trying to find the right words, "I know   
it hurts and you're afraid to lose her, but you won't. Please don't give up   
on us just because she's not behaving rationally at the moment."   
  
She turned her head and the moment he saw her eyes Angel's heart hit the   
bottom with a loud thud. He could see it, could see it in the depth of her   
hazel orbs. "I want you to leave," she said, her voice carefully controlled.   
"There is no 'us'. A roll in the sack doesn't give you any right. And I will   
certainly not allow for some lover to come between my children and me. Take   
your things and leave."   
  
He longed to reach out and take her into his arms, and another part just   
wanted to spank her bottom and beat some sense into her stubborn head. But   
he knew that she would step away the moment he tried to touch her and as for   
beating. He sighed inwardly. There had already been too much violence in his   
life and hitting the woman he loved wasn't a priority on his list. Besides   
he knew for sure it wouldn't help at all. She had built up her wall and   
nothing he could do that would be able to tear it down again.   
  
So he just slipped through the arms of the shirt that still wore Buffy's   
marks that still smelled like her. His eyes were sad and tired when he   
finally looked up. Her eyes were narrowed and cold. Distant. Almost   
hostile. Well, so much for sweet after-sex bliss, he thought sarcastically.   
  
Without another word he walked out of her apartment.   
  
*****   
  
The front door slammed shut with a force that had Willow almost dropping the   
spell book she'd been reading. Tara had brought it yesterday from the Wiccan   
shop and it was really interesting, she'd said. Willow could only agree. For   
the last two hours the redhead had been studying a spell about turning a   
human in animal form back to his real self. Her gaze flickered to the cage   
were the Amy-rat was happily racing her wheel. Granted, it looked as if the   
former witch had accepted her fate, and without doubt she had to be the   
oldest rat alive, but Willow couldn't help but think it would be nicer to   
walk on two legs and to have more distraction than just a wheel and some   
tasty food.   
  
Only seconds after the door had been slammed Joyce stormed into the living   
room, her eyes puffy from crying, her hair disheveled, sweat was running   
down her face and she seemed distressed.   
  
Willow put the book away quickly and rushed to the girl's side, "Joyce,   
honey, what happened? Are you alright?"   
  
Joyce tried to gulp some air into her still burning lungs, "No," she pressed   
out, "I'm not... alright." She took another deep breath and seeing Willow's   
alarmed expression she amended, "I'm okay, physically."   
  
The redhead released a pent up breath, then led the teenager towards the   
sofa. "Sit down, honey. Can I get you something? A drink?"   
  
"No," the girl shook her head, "Thanks. I... I don't need anything."   
Suddenly, unexpectedly, tears welled up in he eyes. "I... I..."   
  
Willow wrapped an arm around her and crooned, "Shhh, it's okay. Everything   
will be okay. Just tell me and we'll find a way to make it better."   
  
"Nothing will be okay," Joyce replied, glad her heart wasn't beating so fast   
anymore. She wouldn't have liked getting a heart attack. On the other hand,   
maybe her mother would've felt sorry then, would realize what she's done.   
She felt so much irrational anger against the woman who'd born her, felt   
betrayed in a way she'd never experienced before.   
  
"Of course it will," Willow said gently. "Things always look worse than they   
really are."   
  
But Joyce wasn't ready for the real voice of reason. She pulled away   
quickly, her eyes full of anger, "Look worse?" she asked sardonically. "I   
wonder if there's anything worse than finding your mother with a man?"   
  
The redhead's mouth jaw hit the ground, "What?" she asked, staring at the   
teenager.   
  
"You heard me," Joyce replied, "I found my mother with... with... a man."   
  
To the girl's great surprise, Willow's expression turned to one of   
speculation, "A man, huh?" she said, not quite able to hide the smile in her   
eyes. She had a good idea who the man was. And frankly, she wanted to jump   
on the table and dance. "Can you describe him?"   
  
Joyce blushed slightly, but managed to keep her voice angry, "He... uh...   
was kind of cute, I have to say that. Tall, dark, good-looking. Brown eyes.   
Spiky hair."   
  
The redhead tilted her head slightly, "You got quite a good look at him,"   
she commented.   
  
The girl's blush deepened, "I... uh... kinda met him before," she admitted.   
"A week ago, he was looking for our street, asked me for the address and we   
talked." Angry with herself, that she'd sounded more wistful than angry, she   
said, "And that makes it even worse. He came to Sunnydale only a few days   
ago and then I find him and mom. Together."   
  
Willow's eyes narrowed, "Define, together," she demanded.   
  
"They were naked," Joyce said acidly, "And don't try to tell me they were   
just doing some weird form of playing doctor. I'm not stupid. They've been   
doing the nasty thing."   
  
The witch couldn't help her face lighting up with a beam, "Oh, good," she   
said.   
  
Joyce gasped, "WHAT?" she shouted, staring at Willow in distress. What the   
hell was happening? She'd gone to find an ally and now it seemed she'd found   
her mother's most cheerful supporter.   
  
"I'm sorry, Joyce," Willow replied, sobering, "I know you might have   
expected me to shout and be very angry. But I can't," she took a deep breath   
and put a hand on the teenager's arm, "Maybe it's time to tell you about   
Buffy and her lover."   
  
"You mean there is MORE? It's not disgusting enough to find her with a man   
in bed. A man who's only half her age, I want to add. She might look young,   
but-"   
  
"Uh... actually he's not half her age."   
  
"YOUNGER?" Joyce's eyes almost bulged out of her head. "Oh, that's *so* bad.   
So very, very bad." If he was even less than half her age, that would make   
him... Oh God! He couldn't be much older than Joyce was herself. And Willow   
seemed to back it up. What was happening? Was she in some wacky nightmare   
and hadn't just noticed it?   
  
"No. Not really. As a matter of fact, he's older, much, much older," Willow   
said with a gentle smile. "There's more to Angel than it meets the eye."   
  
"Define older. Because for me he looks younger, much, much younger."   
  
"About 250 years older," the redhead said matter-of-factly.   
  
"250... WHAT? Oh sure, Aunt Willow? Did you take any pills or... WHAT IS   
WRONG WITH YOU!?"   
  
The redhead sighed heavily. There was a lot to explain, "Okay, Joyce. Why   
don't you sit down and I'll tell you that Angel was born more than 250 years   
ago in Ireland."   
  
... to be continued 


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Concerned Friends and ...

Just Human, Chapter 13: CONCERNED FRIENDS AND OTHER FEELINGS   
  
"Where is she?" Buffy asked breathlessly and walked passed Willow who had   
opened the door. The blond had run almost the whole way from her apartment   
to the redhead's house after the witch had called her and told her that   
Joyce was safely home.   
  
Willow followed her friend to the living room, stopped there and crossed her   
arms in front of her chest, "Hi, Buffy," she said, sarcasm in her voice.   
  
The blond whirled around and at the sight of her friend, she released a pent   
up breath and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened it again, her   
expression was apologetic. "Sorry, Will. Hi. I didn't want to..." she   
gestured towards the door, "You know. But I was so worried. How is she? Is   
she alright?"   
  
Willow smiled and uncrossing her arms walked towards the kitchen, "You want   
something to drink?" she asked over her shoulder. "And to answer your   
question. Joyce is fine. She's upset," she said returning with two soft   
drinks in her hands, "but," she handed one to Buffy with a stern face, "what   
can you expect after she found her mother in bed with a man. Naked." She bit   
her lower lip, but it was in vain, a grin spread across her face. "May I say   
congrats?"   
  
"What?" Buffy stared at her.   
  
"I assume the man she described is Angel?"   
  
"Why do I get the expression you think it's a good thing?" the blond asked   
wondrously. "And yeah. It was Angel."   
  
"Good," the witch replied with a smile. "And yes, I think it's a good thing.   
It's the best thing, if you ask me. You've loved him for so long, Buffy."   
Her smiled widened when she saw the surprise on her friend's face, "You   
think I didn't notice? I'm your friend. Friends notice these things. But   
even if I hadn't. Do you remember asking me about different kinds of love?   
You never mentioned Angel, but I knew nevertheless."   
  
This couldn't be real, Buffy decided. She was sitting in Willow's living   
room and her friend was encouraging her to continue an affair with Angel. No   
word about Joyce's feelings, just 'she's fine, and of course a little bit   
upset', but no blaming, nothing.   
  
"Where is Angel by the way?" the witch asked suddenly, "I thought he'd come   
with you."   
  
"I sent him away," Buffy replied, still trying to sort out her feelings and   
thoughts.   
  
"YOU WHAT?" Willow shouted, her eyes wide and disbelieving. "No, you didn't?   
Buffy, he's the best thing that could've happened to you and you   
sent him away?," she let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. "Why?"   
  
"I... I..." the blond stuttered, not knowing what to say. There had been so   
many good reasons, but she couldn't think of one at the moment. But there   
had been a reason why she'd treated him like scum and just ordered him out   
of her life - and that after she'd seen his eyes. Oh God. She suddenly   
realized she'd moaned out loud.   
  
Willow's gaze sharpened, "Was it because of Joyce? It was, wasn't it? God,   
Buffy. Did you honestly think that sending Angel away would change the fact   
that she saw you together in bed? Did you plan to go to her and humbly ask   
for forgiveness?" the witch was getting really angry, "Did you think, you   
needed to sacrifice the only man you ever loved, really loved, so she would   
love you again?"   
  
The redhead saw the truth of her words, when the blond looked up at her with   
pain and tear filled eyes. She took a deep breath, then looked at he friend   
helplessly, "God, Buffy, what have you done? That's not the way to deal with   
it. Joyce has to accept that there are parts of your life that are private."   
  
"That's what Angel tried to tell me," Buffy said tonelessly. "He..." her   
voice cracked, and she pressed a hand to her mouth and suppressed a sob. "Oh   
God, Willow."   
  
"And Joyce will accept it. I talked to her. She's upset, but I told her   
about you and Angel. I know she has a problems with vampires and maybe also   
with ex-vamps, but she had to know, so she could understand that you and   
Angel aren't just some random affair. You didn't just forget about her   
father and jumped into bed with a, quote, 'much, much younger man'. I   
explained to her that you had to give up Angel and that as a result you   
married Riley and she was born, and Ben, and Marlie. I think the moment this   
sinks in she'll understand."   
  
Buffy was silent after that and looked at her friend for a long time.   
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she nodded and stood. She   
managed a smile, "Willow, can I use your phone?" she asked simply and her   
friend smiled.   
  
*****   
  
Cordelia Chase, because she was still Chase as she'd simply refused to be   
Mrs. Wyndham-Pryce, switched off the phone and put the receiver down, but   
didn't move, just stared at it with a thoughtful expression in her eyes. She   
almost jumped when a hand slipped around her waist and someone started to   
nibble at the back of her neck. Usually she would've liked that kind of   
attention, but "Not now, Wes," she hissed and freed her from his embrace.   
  
Stepping away from him, she rubbed her forehead, and then combed a hand   
through her hair. It wasn't that effective, because it was short these days.   
Again. It had been grown long for several years, but hitting the 4-0, she   
thought long hair wasn't really that appropriate anymore. So she'd cut it,   
and Angelo, her hairdresser had almost cried. She shook her head over her   
own train of thoughts. Had to be the stress, she decided.   
  
Turning she found her husband watching her with his serious eyes, "Something   
wrong?" he asked and she found herself reminded why she loved him so much.   
His voice was gentle and full of concern and his eyes were filled with love.   
His hair had started to turn silver at his temples, but in Cordelia's eyes   
that made him only more attractive.   
  
"I'm not sure," she replied, burying her hand in her hair again. She took a   
deep breath, "That was Buffy," she told him.   
  
"Buffy?" one of his brows shot up, "Buffy Summers? Why on earth would Buffy   
call you?"   
  
"She wanted to know which hotel Angel was staying at in Sunnydale."   
  
Wesley smiled slightly, "Well that's good. We were hoping they might get   
back together."   
  
"*You* were hoping they'd get back together," she said, "I told him he   
should stay the hell away from her. She's never been good for him. Whenever   
she came to L.A. or we had to go back to Sunnydale, especially after she   
married that soldier-guy who had no fashion sense at all by the way, he was   
a wreck for days, sometimes weeks afterwards. Remember, when we were going   
to slay that demon, because Buffy was supposed to be ill? Then it turned out   
she was pregnant and you certainly remember what happened when we came back,   
right?"   
  
He inhaled deeply and nodded, "Yeah, I remember," he replied, and he did.   
There was no way he'd forget finding Angel one morning in a drunken stupor,   
so drunk that he'd fallen asleep in front of an open window. When Wesley had   
arrived at the hotel, the vampire had been smoldering already. Had he been   
only one moment later, there would've been no way he could've prevented   
Angel being reduced to ashes.   
  
"Buffy Summers," Cordelia went on, "is the only one with the power to make   
Angel truly miserable. And although he's human now and there's no danger   
anymore for him to just walk into the sunlight and burst into flames, I   
still don't like to see him suffer." Suddenly realizing what she'd said, she   
tried to cover up, "Because he'll brood again, and he's such a good   
babysitter, but in brood-mood he isn't. Michael starts complaining that his   
uncle Angel didn't want to play-"   
  
Wesley stopped his wife's babbling by walking over and wrapping his arms   
around her, "I know," he said softly, kissing her inviting lips. He reached   
up and ran the back of his hand over her cheek, thanking the Powers or God   
or whoever was in charge up there that they'd led him to this incredible   
woman who had brought so much love into his life. "You're a good friend,   
Cordy. Angel should be glad to have you as his friend."   
  
"He better not forget it," she replied gruffly, blinking rapidly. God, this   
was so embarrassing. She was Cordelia, and most of the time she was in   
control. But Wesley had the power to turn her insides into mush. "I don't   
mind Buffy, really I don't, but she'd better not hurt him, because I have a   
busy life and absolutely no time to rush over there to pick up the pieces."   
  
Wesley tightened his arms around her and kissed her again, "I know," he   
whispered, deepening the kiss, "I know."   
  
*****   
  
Angel pressed the last of his shirts in his bag and zipped it shut, then   
threw it onto his bed. He had even packed the shirt Buffy had torn only   
hours ago. He should just have thrown it away, but of course, idiot he was   
he couldn't do it.   
  
Running a hand through his hair, he took a deep breath. He was such a fool.   
How could he have believed just for a moment, that making love to Buffy   
would change things? But when she'd told him she'd never been in love with   
Riley, he hadn't been able to hold back. And she'd reacted with the same   
passion. Angel knew, he just knew, that it had been more than sex. He knew   
Buffy, and he had seen it in her eyes, had felt it in every touch; in the   
way she'd clung to him, the way she'd sobbed when they'd spiraled out of   
control together.   
  
But making love was one thing, reality another. Reality meant Buffy had   
three children. Three children she had neglected for almost six months. For   
a mother that was an eternity and a buck load of guilt. Ben and Marlie had   
accepted her back in their lives without fuss. But Joyce was difficult. And   
when the girl had obviously decided to give her mother another chance she'd   
found Buffy in bed with a stranger.   
  
Talk about bad timing.   
  
But all this didn't change the fact that he was a fool. A fool for believing   
that Buffy would turn towards him, maybe even lean on him if things got   
rough. Instead she'd turned away, far, far away, built up her walls, pushed   
him away. She was far from facing the guilt she'd carried around for so   
long. Probably she even thought it was the punishment she'd earned for   
allowing herself to be with Angel again. God, the situation was a mess.   
  
Angel turned and looked at the packed bag on his bed. He didn't want to   
leave. He wanted to rush to her side, offer her his chest to lean on, offer   
her his arms to hold her, offer her his love. But without doubt he knew she   
would throw it back in his face and more than anything he knew that he   
wouldn't be able to deal with another rejection. He felt too raw, too shaky   
to put up with her anger again.   
  
It was for the best that he left, he told himself. He would go back to L.A.,   
brood for a while, and hopefully find a way to... But no. It wasn't going to   
work that way. This time it was Buffy's turn to do something, it was totally   
up to her. She had to come to him, more, she had to see what was wrong with   
her and face her problems once and for all.   
  
The fact that it was Buffy, who had to do the next move, scared him to   
death. The way she'd built up the walls was a sure sign that she wasn't up   
to any move at all. God, he couldn't lose her. There was no way he could   
live, knowing that there was nothing standing in their path anymore and   
still be separated. That would surely, slowly kill him.   
  
A knock on his door let him snap back to reality and with more force then   
necessary he tore the door open.   
  
"Buffy?" he said not quite believing his eyes.   
  
"Angel," Buffy replied almost shyly, biting her lower lip.   
  
"How did you find me?" he asked, inviting her with a gesture.   
  
She stepped over the threshold, "Cordelia told me. I called her from   
Willow's. Joyce ran to her after..." she blushed delicately, "you know."   
  
"I see," he said. Looking around in the sparely furnished motel-room, he   
smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, I don't have any chairs to offer. If you   
want to sit down, you'll have to take the bed."   
  
"No, thank you," she reclined and gave him an uncertain smile. Glancing at   
the bed, her eyes widened with instant panic as they fell on the packed bag.   
"Are you leaving?"   
  
He watched her face for a moment, and then slowly nodded, "Yes."   
  
"NO!" she almost shouted, coming closer to him. "You can't leave. We just   
found each other again."   
  
One of his brows rose, "Oh? A short while ago it sounded quite differently.   
You said something about I should take my things and leave."   
  
"I know," she replied, feeling miserable, "I know. And I'm sorry." She took   
another step towards him, but didn't dare to touch. "I'm sorry for what I   
said. I had no right to do it."   
  
"No, you didn't," he agreed. "You hurt me. But what's worse, you hurt   
yourself even more."   
  
"I know," tears were welling up in her eyes, "I was wrong. I... talked to   
Willow and," she wiped the first falling tear away, "and she made me see   
that I was wrong. She explained everything to Joyce and my daughter will   
come around. I know she will. Please, Angel, there's no reason to leave."   
  
God, he wanted to take her in his arms. It broke his heart to see her like   
this. Pleading, desperately trying to suppress her tears, because she didn't   
want his pity. He wanted to hold her and make her pain go away, wanted to   
tell her it would all be all right, and yet, he couldn't. There was no way   
he could just forget what had happened only hours ago.   
  
"No," he said, "You're wrong Buffy. There is a reason to leave. And should I   
have doubted it, your last words made it crystal clear. I don't have any   
choice but to leave."   
  
"What?" confused she looked up to him, her hazel eyes brimming with tears.   
"What do you mean?"   
  
"Only hours ago, you wanted me out of your life-"   
  
"I told you, I'm sorry," she cried desperately. "I was wrong. I know that."   
  
"And now you tell me it was all a big mistake, and I should just forget it.   
But I can't. When I came... I didn't plan to have sex with you. I thought we   
were going to talk, something that might have helped, although I'm not sure   
anymore. Then you told me about Riley and... I lost control. It was   
overwhelming to touch you and..." he shook his head, clearing his mind from   
the images that flashed through it. Buffy naked underneath him, her eyes   
glazed with passion, her mouth wet and swollen from his kisses.   
  
Firmly he pushed the images away and went on, "But of course I should've   
known that 20 years of guilt can't just be wiped away by an hour of shared   
passion. That's just not possible. The moment Joyce stood in your doorway it   
meant nothing anymore. What we'd just shared was reduced to insignificance."   
  
"That's not true," she protested. But her voice sounded weak and he could   
see that she felt the truth in his words.   
  
He hated it. He hated being right. He wanted her to shout at him, that he   
was an idiot and that he'd only imagined the things that had happened. But   
she didn't do it. Of course not. He was right. And it hurt like hell to be   
right. God, how he wished he was wrong. Just this once. "You know it is," he   
said softly, smiling sadly at her. "You need to face your problems first,   
Buffy. I can't do it for you. I thought I could. Do it for you, or at least   
with you, but you won't let me."   
  
"I will," she sobbed, "Angel, I learned from what happened. I won't push you   
away again."   
  
So at least she knew what she'd done, he thought, and felt a small glimmer   
of hope. But that could only be the beginning, it was far from being enough, "I   
don't know that. And frankly, I don't want to test it. It almost killed me   
to see you turning against me after what we shared. I can't do it again. If   
you want there to be future for us-"   
  
"I want. Angel, I swear, I want."   
  
He went on as if she hadn't said it, "-you have to find a way to deal with   
what happened."   
  
"But Joyce will come around. This won't be a problem anymore," she tried to   
argue, not caring anymore that the tears were now streaming down her cheeks.   
  
"Maybe," he replied, giving her the sad smile she'd seen before and it broke   
her heart. "But at the moment I'm not strong enough to risk it. What if   
tomorrow Xander finds a reason we can't be together, what if next weak   
Marlie gives you an ultimatum to choose." He shook his head, "No, Buffy. I   
can't live that way, *we* cannot live like that. It would destroy us."   
  
He took a step and closed the gap between them, and then he reached out and   
gently wiped her wet cheeks with his thumbs, then cupped them in his palms.   
"I love you," he said gently. "I loved you from the moment I saw you and   
that will never change."   
  
"I love you too," she sobbed, covering his hands with hers.   
  
He should've felt deliriously happy, but he couldn't. "I wish it was   
enough," he said sadly. "But it isn't. It rarely is. You have to find a way   
to live with your past, Buffy. And I hope to God you will. Because only   
then we will have a chance. If you want, that is."   
  
"Yes, I want Angel," she assured him, still holding his hands. "I swear I   
want. And I promise, I'll do everything you want me to. Please don't go.   
Please don't leave me. I can't watch you leave again. It almost killed me   
the first time."   
  
He pulled his hands away and reached for his bag, "I'm sorry, but that isn't   
the way it works. I'm not leaving you. You have my number. I'm just going to   
L.A. Buffy, you have to do this on your own. I thought I could help you, but   
I, better than anyone, should know that nobody can help you to forgive   
yourself. You have to do it. Call me when you know you can deal with it."   
  
"Angel, please," she begged again, reaching for his arm.   
  
He evaded her, and walked towards the door, "You're strong Buffy, the   
strongest person I know. You can do it. I'm counting on it."   
  
Buffy closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt cold   
and lonely. He wanted her to do something, she wasn't sure she could. Could   
she leave 20 years behind her and move on? Could she be with Angel and not   
feel guilty? Could she accept what was and live with it? Angel had made it   
perfectly clear that she had to do it, if she wanted to have a future with   
him.   
  
And that was one thing she knew for certain. It was as if the incident with   
Joyce had opened her eyes and allowed her to see clearly for the first time   
in years. She wanted Angel. She still loved him and wanted him in her life.   
She wanted him to hold her, be with her, laugh with her and make love to   
her. She couldn't even imagine being without him anymore, now that she'd   
accepted her love for him.   
  
She opened her eyes again when she heard an engine start outside the motel.   
She knew it was Angel's car; she didn't have to go to the window and look.   
Angel had left her. Again. But unlike 22 years ago, this time he had left   
the choice to her. The question now was if she was up for the challenge.   
  
... to be continued 


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Advice of An Old Frien...

Just Human, Chapter 14: ADVICE OF AN OLD FRIEND   
  
The ringing of his doorbell disturbed Rupert Giles' evening routine of a   
good book and an old brandy, and he struggled to get on his feet. He felt   
old these days although he wasn't really that old. He had aged well, his   
face only showing minor wrinkles; his graying hair still sparkled with   
blond, his eyes still intense and not missing a thing.   
  
Maybe it was the fact that not a lot happened these days in Sunnydale. He   
had to chuckle at his own thoughts when he walked down the steps and towards   
the door. He was still living in his old apartment, too comfortable to move,   
Willow had called it.   
  
Was he actually wishing for more action? If he was honest with himself, he   
had to admit he did. He'd been trained to become a watcher from when he'd   
been very young, his whole education, his whole life had led to his   
destination. All the generations before him had been watchers and so there   
wasn't anything else he could do. Sure, he could've refused, but the   
supernatural had always excited and intrigued him and so he hadn't even   
tried to break out.   
  
After a lifetime of excitement, after helping to avert more apocalypses he   
could count, it was hard to settle into a normal life. Especially if you had   
nobody to share it with. It was hard getting old completely on your own. Of   
course there were the children, now adults, including Buffy, he'd once cared   
for, but they had their own lives now, their own families and more to do   
than just care for an aging lonely man.   
  
God, he was really getting old. Now he pitied himself. Get a hold of   
yourself Rupert Giles he scolded himself.   
  
He'd been retired as a watcher when Buffy had retired ten years ago. Too old   
to give him a new assignment the Council had told him. He snorted. Too old.   
  
Yeah, sure.   
  
And pigs could fly.   
  
He knew exactly why they hadn't assigned him to a new slayer. They didn't   
trust him. After the incident on Buffy's 18th birthday where he'd gone   
against his vows and the rules of the Council, he didn't have many friends   
left there. They had grudgingly accepted him back because they knew it was   
the only way to have at least minor control over Buffy. She had made it   
perfectly clear that she wouldn't accept another watcher to guide her.   
  
They didn't trust her either. But Buffy was too good, too experienced, and   
too strong to lose her and so they had agreed. Then with Buffy's retirement   
his shares with the council had instantly lost their value and only one day   
after Buffy he'd been informed that they had no use for him anymore.   
  
"Coming," he shouted, when the doorbell rang again. "Have a little patience   
with an old man."   
  
He'd gone back to England at first, visited friends he hadn't seen for a   
long time, but after spending 25 years in the USA England just wasn't his   
real home anymore. So he'd returned after only six months, glad that he   
hadn't given up his apartment and could at least settle back into a routine.   
Yes, Willow was definitely right, he was too comfortable with his apartment   
to give it up. And why should he, it was perfect for a bachelor. Sighing he   
reached for the door and pulled it open.   
  
"You're not old," Buffy said, smiling at him.   
  
"Tell it my aching joints and back," he replied, smiling back, his eyes   
noticing instantly her puffy eyes. She had tried to cover it up with   
make-up, but it hadn't really helped. "Buffy," he greeted her. "It's so good to   
see you. Come in."   
  
She followed him into his living room, and he pointed at a seat, "Sit down.   
Can I get you something?"   
  
She looked around and not seeing the usual Brandy on the table, she frowned,   
"Am I disturbing you?"   
  
"No," he replied, "I took the Brandy and the book upstairs for a change.   
Hence the long wait at the door. But I'm happy to see you."   
  
Buffy nodded and took a seat, "I'd like to have soda or whatever you have,"   
she told him, then added, "I've quit alcohol, you know."   
  
He didn't turn, but Buffy could hear the smile in his voice when said, "So   
I've heard."   
  
She raised a brow, "You have?"   
  
"Yes," he confirmed coming back with a coke for her and another Brandy for   
himself, "Xander was here yesterday," he rolled his eyes. "Obviously Anya   
has been telling the twins about a certain demon and now they didn't want to   
believe it really existed. He needed a book to prove it."   
  
Buffy laughed, "I can imagine that. That's so like Anya. Well, I suppose   
even after more than 20 years it's difficult to completely forget what   
you've done for more than 11 centuries." Her laughter vanished when she   
realized what she'd said. Forgetting things. Moving on. Yeah, it sounded so   
easy. And was so hard.   
  
"I guess you're right," Giles agreed. "How are you, Buffy?" he asked then,   
sipping from his drink.   
  
She shrugged, and frowned, "Fine. Peachy. Joyce still isn't talking to me.   
I've made a mess of my life and hurt a person I love more than anything. But   
at least I haven't had a drink for more than a weak. Does that count as a   
success? I hope it does. Oh, and did I tell you that I lately met the ghost   
of my dead mother?"   
  
Giles' eyes widened with sudden interest, "Really? You saw your mother? How   
did she look? Do you know why she came to you?"   
  
Buffy groaned, "Giles! Could we please *not* talk about my mother. Gee, 'how   
does she look'? She's a ghost for God's sake. She looks like..." she   
gestured with her hands, "... like a ghost. The way she looked just before   
she died."   
  
"But it is really fascinating. Appearances of late relatives. There are   
entire books that deal with that special-"   
  
"No," Buffy said sharply, glaring at him. "I'm really not interested in   
hearing it. I'm not denying that ghosts exist. I was the slayer remember.   
I've met more ghosts I can count. My mother's ghost appearing in my   
apartment is just one more wacky thing in my wacky life." Feeling a sudden   
tightness in her throat, she swallowed hard and blinked threatening tears   
away. "My life really sucks beyond belief. I thought when I left all the   
slayer-stuff behind me, I could start living like a normal person, but it   
doesn't work. It gets more complicated every day."   
  
Giles watched her, saw her struggle to keep her composure, and then said   
simply, "It's Angel, isn't it?" Her startled gaze flew to his and he smiled   
gently, "I know that he's human. I also know that he came to Sunnydale to   
see you."   
  
Her eyes narrowed, "And how do you know that? And more importantly how long   
did you know it?"   
  
"That he is human? About five months," he replied, sipping from his Brandy   
again.   
  
"Five months?" she echoed in disbelief. "And... and why didn't you tell me?"   
  
"Because it wasn't my place to tell. Wesley told me when he called because   
he needed my advice for dealing with a demon. He mentioned that they needed   
more information because Angel wasn't a vampire anymore. Frankly I was   
stunned, I had never heard of something like this before. But obviously they   
found a prophecy many years ago about the vampire with a soul. It said that   
if he would be able to overcome several challenges he would be rewarded with   
his humanity."   
  
"So you knew it all along and didn't tell me?," Buffy said, still feeling   
slightly dazed at the new information. Giles had known. And she hadn't.   
  
"Buffy, you just lost your husband. You were in no shape to deal with that   
kind of information," Giles said gently. "And besides. As I already told   
you, it wasn't my place. The only person who could tell you was Angel."   
  
"This makes me so sick!" Buffy shouted suddenly, jumped up from the seat and   
began to pace, her arms waving wildly through the air. "Why do people always   
decide what's good for me? I'm forty years old. How come nobody seems to   
notice that I'm a grown adult? I have three kids. One of them almost grown   
herself, for God's sake." She stopped and glared at him.   
  
"Buffy I already-"   
  
"Yeah, yeah," she said impatiently and started to pace again. "It was   
Angel's place to tell. I've heard you." And then it hit her and she stopped   
dead in tracks, "Prophecy?" she said, stepping closer to Giles, her eyes   
never leaving his. "What do mean there was a prophecy about him turning   
human? What prophesy? And when did he find it?"   
  
Giles leaned back in his seat and eyed the angry woman in front of him. She   
looked hardly like 40. More like 30, maybe not even that. They had tried to   
find out what had slowed her aging progress, especially after the doctors   
had confirmed that physically she wasn't even close to 40. Although she'd   
fought and been hurt more times he could count, her joints were flawless,   
her muscles strong and her inner organs in perfect shape.   
  
"The prophecy," he said after a moment of consideration, "was part of the   
Scroll of Aberijan. I already told you what it said. Wesley translated it.   
He wasn't sure about the meaning of the word 'Shanshu' at first, but after   
awhile he realized it meant 'life'. They found it by accident at the end of   
Angel's first year in L.A."   
  
Buffy stared at him, as if she couldn't comprehend his words, then her eyes   
watering, she whispered, "His first year?"   
  
"Yes," Giles confirmed. "That's what Wesley told me."   
  
"You know too?" she asked incredulously.   
  
"Yes, Wesley contacted me to translate the word 'Shanshu', or rather to   
confirm what he'd already translated. He wanted to be certain."   
  
"And you two decided again that little Buffy was not fit to know, right?"   
Her voice sounded bitter and up to a certain agree, Giles thought she had a   
right to be. He had often wondered if he should've told her, but whenever   
he had contemplated the idea of telling her, he hadn't been able to go   
through with it.   
  
"Buffy," he said gently and reached out to take her hand, but she evaded him   
and stepped back. He sighed, she was angry. But this was Buffy, and anything   
but anger and hurt would've been a surprise. "Again. It wasn't my place   
to tell you. But even if it had been. Nobody, I repeat, nobody had any idea   
if the prophecy was correct or even if it was, *when* it was going to   
happen. What would you have gained by knowing about it? Would you have   
stopped living your own mortal life, waiting for something that might not happen   
at all? No," he said firmly, "I couldn't let that happen. I   
loved you too much to let you throw your life away for a dream that nobody   
knew would come true. And so did Angel."   
  
Buffy turned away from him and staggered to the counter that separated his   
living room from the kitchenette. Angel. Angel hadn't told her either. He   
hadn't felt she should know.   
  
Oh God.   
  
Her hands gripped the wooden surface and she held it so hard that her   
knuckles turned white. Absentmindedly she noticed that she was still wearing   
Riley's wedding ring. She hadn't taken it off for more than 18 years. Riley.   
Would she have married him had she known? Had Angel given her the   
opportunity to know? She had married Riley because she had felt hopeless and   
lonely, but with the knowledge that Angel might turn human one day, there   
would have been hope. Vague, granted, but still hope. There would've been   
something to look forward to.   
  
Maybe she wouldn't have married Riley and spared him the life with a woman   
who hadn't been able to really love him. She would've spent the last 20   
years on her own, but would that really have been so bad, she wondered?   
  
She started when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She'd been so wrapped up   
in her thoughts that she hadn't heard Giles coming up behind her. "Would you   
really like to change the last 20 years?" he asked softly. "Would you like   
to rewind the years and spend the time alone instead? Believe me, Buffy,   
being independent, alone, is highly overrated. Loneliness isn't a nice   
thing.   
  
'Loneliness is the scariest thing.'   
  
Angel's words from so long ago came to her mind, and she took a deep breath.   
Would she have been able to be on her own for so long? Well maybe not   
completely on her own. She could've had one or two lovers. Nothing special,   
just a man to spend a few nice hours with, to fill... the loneliness.   
  
"And think about your children, Buffy. You wouldn't have them if it weren't   
for the last 20 years. Would you like to turn that back too? Would you like   
to live your life without Joyce, without Ben, without Marlie? Would you   
really want that? Ask yourself, Buffy. And when you know, tell me again."   
  
Giles let go of her and she could hear him walk back to his chair and sit   
down. Joyce, Ben and Marlie. God, she'd almost forgotten about them. Her   
children. Her wonderful, beloved kids. Of course she couldn't imagine her   
life without them. Not for one moment she wanted to picture that scenario.   
It hurt enough to see Joyce turning away from her. Hating her. Well, maybe   
not hating, hating her, but her daughter was definitely angry. According to   
Willow she would come around, but it hurt nevertheless.   
  
And suddenly she realized what was Giles telling her without words. It was a   
gift of love. Only a man who loved her would be able to sacrifice his own   
happiness, his own dreams for her sake. She suddenly thought of Angel,   
knowing all he did, knowing that he might be human one day, but still   
letting her go, move on with her own life, marrying another, having the   
other man's kids.   
  
A picture flashed through her mind. Angel was kneeling in front of her,   
looking at her and whispering, "you didn't love him".   
  
Tears sprang to her eyes, the sudden emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She   
pressed a hand in front of her mouth not to cry out in sudden agony. Yes, he   
hadn't told and yes, she hadn't asked him for this sacrifice. Still, he had done   
it. Unselfishly, because he loved her.   
  
All those years she had had a husband, a family, children, while Angel had   
nothing. While he was experiencing the loneliness he feared so much. Only   
now she understood what he'd done. She still didn't like the fact that he'd kept   
important things from her, but now she could understand.   
  
Slowly she turned back to Giles and wiped the tears from her cheeks, "I... I   
understand," she said, trying a shaky smile. "At least I think I do. And I'm   
not angry anymore."   
  
His eyes were warm, when he smiled back at her, "That's good. You're a smart   
woman, Buffy. You were a smart girl back then. Besides. All this is long   
over and done. Believe an old man, and don't tell me again, I'm not old,   
because I feel old, really, really old."   
  
They laughed both, and although Buffy's laughter was slightly wobbly, it was   
genuine. "When you're my age," Giles continued, "You know that life is short   
and that the only real regrets you have are for those things you haven't   
done. I often regret that I never got the chance to tell Jenny I loved her.   
I'm almost certain she knew anyway," he chuckled, his eyes far away,   
remembering. "She always teased me because I was so shy. But knowing it or   
not, it would have been nice to tell her."   
  
"Yes," Buffy nodded. "I can understand that. I never told Riley I loved him.   
I'll always regret that too."   
  
"Did you?"   
  
"What?" she asked confused.   
  
"Love him," Giles clarified, "Because telling somebody you love him is a   
serious matter. Especially if the person you're saying it to is your husband   
or your lover. It's different to say I love you to a friend like Willow than   
it is to a husband. It has a completely different meaning."   
  
Buffy sighed deeply, "That's the whole problem," she said then, walking back   
to the table and reclaiming her seat. "Ever since Riley died I can't get   
over the feeling that I've run out of time. He loved me so much, gave me so   
much, and I... I..."   
  
"You couldn't give him back the same?" Giles asked gently.   
  
"Yeah," she admitted, releasing a breath. She bit her lower lip for a   
moment, then took her glass and sipped. "I tried. I really tried. But it   
just," she shrugged, "didn't happen, I guess. Mom once said you can't force   
love and I suppose she was right. I did like Riley though. I liked him a   
lot. I even loved him, just not... they way a wife is supposed to love her   
husband."   
  
"Says who?" he asked.   
  
She shrugged again, "Me, I suppose. I have this big guilt-fest going on   
inside of me. And I just can't find a way to get over it. But if I can't, I   
can't have Angel either."   
  
"Either?" Giles raised his brows, "Now you've lost me somewhere. What does   
Angel have to do with your guilt?"   
  
"He said that I had to find a way to deal with it or..." she sighed, "As I   
already told you. Angel came to my apartment."   
  
"A week ago? Yes, you said that."   
  
"Yeah, and I shouted at him. Giles, I couldn't even look at him. He was   
standing there in the sunlight and was the embodiment of all my dreams of   
all the things I could have. But Riley was dead and he would never have the   
chance to be loved that way. Because I married him without love, because I   
took away his chance to meet the one girl who might have loved him like he   
should've been loved."   
  
"Whoa," the former watcher held up a hand. "Not so fast, Buffy. Are you   
listening to yourself? What do you mean you took it away from Riley? Riley   
was a grown man. A legal adult, older than you, who decided to marry you.   
You didn't force him, Buffy. You didn't hold a gun to his head and force him   
to the altar. On the contrary, he couldn't wait to become your husband. I   
met him throughout the years, and not once did I see him unhappy. He loved   
you Buffy. And the day you became his wife was his very best day."   
  
"But-"   
  
"No buts," Giles said firmly. "He left you before, do you remember? He   
accused you not to loving him the way he loved you. Do you think when he   
came back he thought that had miraculously changed? Do you really think   
that? Because I don't. I think he married you knowing that you didn't love   
him the way he loved you and he married you anyway. Buffy, just because you   
experienced the real thing that once-in-lifetime-love with Angel it doesn't   
mean other people do. There are hundreds of couples out there, happy   
couples, who don't love each other the way you and Angel do."   
  
Buffy didn't miss that he had the present tense when talking about Angel and   
she. "You think he knew? And that he didn't mind?"   
  
"I didn't say that. I'm sure he did mind. He would've been an idiot and   
inhuman if he didn't mind. Sure, you want the woman you love to love you   
back the same way. But I think, he accepted it. Accepted that you weren't   
able to love him the way you loved Angel. And he was content. Angel wasn't a   
threat. He was a vampire. A vampire with a very shaky soul. Maybe," Giles   
hesitated for a moment, then went on, "maybe he even felt safe the way it   
was."   
  
"Safe?"   
  
"Yeah. I know it's not nice to talk bad about dead people, and it's really   
not my intention and I'm not even sure if Riley ever consciously thought   
about it. My guess would be no. But, you always felt a bit guilty because   
you couldn't give Riley the same feelings you gave Angel. That was his best   
guarantee that you'd never leave him. You felt obligated."   
  
"I did," Buffy confirmed after a moment of considering his words. But I'm   
with you about the conscious thing. Riley never thought about it. He just   
wasn't the type for it."   
  
"I agree," Giles nodded, reached out and covered her hand with his, "Buffy,   
there is absolutely no reason to feel guilty. You should feel guilty if you   
had lied to him, but you never did. Besides, Riley had 18 years with you.   
Don't you think he got what he wanted? He choose you, because he loved you.   
If he wanted another woman, he'd have been free to leave you. He even did   
once. But then he came back. It was his decision." He frowned suddenly, "I   
still don't quite understand the connection between Angel and your guilt."   
  
She sighed again, "Well, after I threw Angel out of my apartment that first   
day, he kept coming back, first at the hospital, where he charmed Marlie,   
then at the park where Ben fell for him. He persuaded me to invite him to   
dinner. No, that's not quite right. I invited him. He just said we should   
have dinner together some day. Anyways, he came to dinner and it was nice.   
So we decided to see each other again. We did and he said something that   
made me very, very angry. I ran away."   
  
She chuckled, "Look at me, I'm a mother and forty years old but I bolted   
from a simple question. Afterwards I felt bad for behaving that way and   
called him. He came this morning and we... uh," she blushed, "... well, you   
know."   
  
Giles' brows shot up, "You slept with him?" he asked incredulously.   
  
"Yeah," Buffy admitted on another chuckle. "But that wasn't the problem. I   
didn't regret doing it. In fact I liked it. A lot."   
  
"That's good then, that you... er... liked it."   
  
The ex-slayer had to laugh, hearing him stutter, seeing him blush furiously,   
"Yeah, that's good. I agree. But what's not so good was that my teenage   
daughter suddenly stood in the middle of the bedroom, finding me and Angel   
stark naked - and together - in bed."   
  
"Oh dear," Giles said, shaking his head. "That must have been quite a   
shock."   
  
"It was. And I freaked. Joyce looked so angry, so shocked, that all that   
guilt came back in a rush. I ordered Angel to leave. He begged me to think   
about it, to talk to him, to let him help, to not push him away, but guess   
what. I didn't listen. Later, I finally caught on that I royally screwed up   
and tried to apologize. I think he even accepted it. Still, he left and went   
back to L.A."   
  
"He left?"   
  
"Yes. He said that I had to sort out my feelings first. I tried to argue   
with him, tried to explain, but he didn't believe me and now I'm thinking   
he's right. He said that he wouldn't be able to stand me turning against him   
again. And I can understand him now. He said I had to find a way to forgive   
myself. Because otherwise we had no future."   
  
"He's a very wise man," Giles said approvingly.   
  
"Piece of cake," Buffy replied, sipping from her drink. "The guy's more than   
250 years old. He had time enough to get wise." She sighed deeply, "But I   
think I understand now what he meant. I need to get straight with Joyce   
first. Then with my own feelings. I'm still confused although our talk   
helped me to see many things a lot clearer. But one thing I know for sure. I   
want Angel. And I will find a way to get him back. To make him see that I'm   
worth a risk."   
  
The ex-watcher smiled warmly, "I never doubted it. And I guess, neither does   
Angel. He loves you Buffy. That was never a question."   
  
Buffy felt a sudden moistness in her eyes and blinked, "Thanks, Giles."   
  
"For what?" he asked.   
  
"For forgiving him. For being able to see beyond his demon that took the   
woman you loved. You know, if I'd had a chance in choosing my father, I'd   
have taken you."   
  
Now the moistness was in his eyes.   
  
... to be continued 


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Mothers, Daughters and ...

Just Human, Chapter 15: MOTHERS, DAUGHTERS, AND THE WAY OF LIFE   
  
Cordelia Chase hated being right. Okay, so most of the time she loved being   
right. It always gave you an advantage to be right. And she'd been right   
very often. She'd known from the beginning that Xander Harris was a loser,   
and that Willow Rosenberg was weird. And life had proven her right. Xander   
had married a vengeance demon, had five kids and never - at least not for a long   
time - set foot outside of Sunnydale, while Willow was married to a woman.   
This wasn't really weird these days, but thinking back on little Willow who   
had hardly gotten a word out because she was so painfully shy, the fact that   
she'd become a bisexual was high weird potential.   
  
Cordelia had also always known that Buffy Summers was trouble. Big trouble.   
The kind of trouble with a big letter T. And again, she'd been right. Only   
this time she didn't like it. Because it meant that her best friend, the   
person who came, as close to being a big brother to her as possible, was   
hurt.   
  
Because she hadn't been able to reach Angel by his cell phone, she had   
called Willow and the witch had told her that Angel had left town.   
  
After talking to Willow she had tried to get a hold of Angel again, but his   
cell was left off. That was yesterday, but Cordelia still hadn't any luck in   
finding him, he hadn't tried to contact her and she still had the keys to   
the apartment she had chosen for him in L.A.   
  
To say she was extremely worried by now was an understatement. Of course she   
would never have admitted it. "I'm okay," she said stubbornly, gritting her   
teeth. Wesley had asked her for the umpteenth time if everything was all   
right with her. Obviously she'd lost her skill in keeping up appearances   
somewhere during her marriage. Or Wesley had become so good at reading her   
that he could see right through her act. Neither possibility was too   
appealing at the moment.   
  
"No, you aren't," he replied and sighed. "I know you're worried about Angel.   
But he's a grown man. He can look out for himself."   
  
"You don't know what you're talking about," his wife turned away from the   
counter and cup in hand came back to the table. "This is about Buffy. That   
means it's serious. Beyond serious, actually. Angel never could think   
straight when it came to Buffy. You weren't there, you never saw the way he   
brooded for a week straight after her first visit in L.A."   
  
"I've seen enough," Wesley said gently, not quite sure if he should be glad   
that she cared so much or worry because she got worked up that way. "You   
weren't there when Faith came to town. I saw the look on his face. And   
remember, I was the one who found him in a drunken stupor almost bursting   
into flames. But that was years ago. A lot has changed since then, don't you   
think?"   
  
"No. Not where Buffy is concerned. God, I wish," she shook her head,   
reminding herself of a wish she'd once made, that Buffy never came to   
Sunnydale. But unlike she'd thought the world hadn't been better without the   
tiny blond. She combed her hair with one hand and put the cup on the table,   
"No, I don't wish she hadn't come into our lives, but why did Angel have to   
fall for her? Couldn't he have fallen for some nice girl like... like Fred?"   
  
Her husband stifled a chuckle, "Fred?" he asked, raising a brow. "Cordelia,   
Fred wasn't really of this world. She did come around but she was still a   
little strange when we managed to get her back where she belonged. Then   
there was Kate who - so you told me was crushing on Angel for a while. Kate   
is a nice person. But Kate and Angel? And then there was Darla. So given   
the choice I'd take Buffy out of all of them."   
  
She frowned slightly at him, and then smiled a bit sheepishly, "If you put   
it that way. Still, I think he would've, if not been better, at least his   
life would be easier without her."   
  
"You think?" Wesley asked, standing up and slipping his arms around her   
waist. "I'm not sure." He grinned at kissed her nose, "Men like challenges.   
Just take me. What other reason would I have to hook up with you?"   
  
Slightly pulling away, Cordelia scrunched her nose in indignation. "Don't   
even dare to compare me to Buffy Summers. We're not even remotely alike."   
  
"No, not at all," he replied, and managed to keep a straight face. "Cordy,   
darling, stop worrying about Buffy and Angel. He's over 250 years old and   
should know how to manage his relationships, and as far as Buffy, she isn't   
a teenager anymore. She's grown up as well, has three children. I don't   
think they need our help. That's not to say they won't get it if they come   
and ask for it. I would never close my door to either of them, but they have   
to ask for a change."   
  
"But-"   
  
"No buts," he said firmly. "I'm sure Angel is alright. Maybe he was just   
late yesterday and didn't want to disturb at the late hour because of the   
children. He has a credit card and knows how to rent a room for a night. And   
don't start with his cell phone. Maybe he just needed to think-"   
  
"Brood," she threw in, pouting at him.   
  
He smiled, kissed her nose again, "Okay, brood. I know you don't like it,   
but over the years I've come to understand that Angel needs it from time to   
time. It's his way of dealing with things. Do you remember when Darla came   
back to L.A. insisting that the child she was carrying was his? He went into   
a several daylong brooding-session. Afterwards he had all worked out and   
offered her to take care of the baby, but made it perfectly clear that not   
for one moment he was buying the idea he could be the father. That it didn't   
work out in the end wasn't his fault."   
  
"No," she admitted on a sigh. "Certainly not." The affair with Darla's child   
wasn't something she wanted to remember. Although it had in the end led to   
the downfall of Wolfram & Hart, it had been a terrible thing for Angel.   
  
"But what's more important is that he made it through it. Granted, he'll   
carry scars for the rest of his now blessedly mortal life, but we all carry   
scars. In Angel's case they just made him stronger, more determined to get   
things done. I trust him, Cordelia. He knows exactly what he does. Much better   
than we do. And I'm sure he will-" call you soon, he wanted to say when the   
doorbell rang.   
  
*****   
  
Joyce stopped dead in her tracks when she entered the kitchen after school.   
  
"Hi, honey," Buffy greeted her.   
  
Of all people Joyce had expected to see sitting in Willow's kitchen, her   
mother was number 200 on the list. Hadn't she made it perfectly clear that   
she didn't want Buffy near? She wasn't as angry anymore as she'd been   
yesterday, but that didn't mean she was all happy about seeing her.   
  
Without even sparing her mother a glance, she walked over to the cupboard,   
took out a glass, went to the fridge and filled it with milk, all the time   
ignoring Buffy's presence, although her jerky movements betrayed the truth.   
Joyce was tense as a bow and had no idea how to react to her mother sitting   
casually at the table. "Where are Willow and Tara?" she asked instead.   
  
"At work," her mother replied.   
  
Joyce raised a brow, and sipping at her glass, she asked, "And who let you   
in?"   
  
"Willow gave me her key," Buffy said with a smile, lifting the object she   
was still holding in her hand. "I told her we had to talk about some things   
and she thought it was a good idea."   
  
"Oh, really?" the girl's voice sounded sarcastic. "Newsflash, mom, I don't   
want to talk to you. So you can just leave. I'll give the key back to   
Willow."   
  
"No need," her mother's smile didn't waver, "because I'm staying, and I'm   
going to talk to you, and afterwards I can give the key back myself."   
  
"I can't speak for you, but I'm certainly not going to talk-"   
  
"Shut up," Buffy interrupted her daughter, her voice never rising.   
  
Joyce's eyes widened and she stared at the woman in front of her. Was that   
really her mother? After her father had died, Buffy had, if she wasn't   
drunk, never spoken a harsh word to her. Her voice was still pleasant now,   
but the look in her eyes told her that she was absolutely serious about   
this.   
  
"Just sit down," the ex-slayer ordered. "You don't have to talk. Just   
listen. Sit," she said again and nodded pointedly at the chair opposite to   
hers.   
  
Her daughter glared at her, but finally sat down, crossed her arms in front   
of her chest and with a stubborn expression stared at her mother.   
  
"See, that wasn't really hard, was it?" Buffy said, her smile warming. "I   
know you're angry, and I also admit you have a right to be. I neglected you   
for the last six months, and there is absolutely no excuse for it. But maybe   
I can try to explain, what caused it? And why you found me with Angel." She   
looked at her daughter for a moment, and when she got no reaction, just the   
same stubborn stare, she stifled a sigh and went on.   
  
"Angel and I met when I was just sixteen, younger than you are today. I was   
a slayer and he was a vampire with a soul. We did something nobody expected,   
we fell in love," she laughed slightly, "Just think about it, mortal enemies   
falling in love." She shook her head, laughed again. "To say the world   
around us was shocked is clearly an understatement. I know, Willow already   
told you something about it, but I think you should hear my version as   
well."   
  
Buffy got up and poured herself a glass of orange juice. Putting the juice   
back into the fridge, she turned to her daughter again, "On my seventeenth   
birthday I slept with him." She saw Joyce's eyes widen in surprise, the   
first sign that the girl was really listening, and nodded. "I suppose Willow   
left that out, huh? But you're a big girl. I think you can deal with it.   
Anyways. As a result Angel lost his soul. The reason was, there was a clause   
in his curse. It said that if he was ever to achieve true happiness, he   
would lose his soul."   
  
Reclaiming her chair, the ex-slayer sighed, "The time after that was   
difficult. I had lost my virginity to him. I loved him more than I could say   
and now a demon was wearing the face of my lover. It was one of the most   
difficult times in my life." She smiled slightly, trying to remember what   
Willow had told her about her talk with Joyce. "When Angel returned from   
Hell, we were both so scared. Too scared to even touch. Scared that one of   
us would lose control and make his soul snap again. Finally he was the more   
adult of us two and left. It broke his heart and mine."   
  
"He... he just left you?" Joyce asked.   
  
Buffy gave her a smile, "Yeah, he did. He broke off with me in a sewer   
tunnel."   
  
"That's gross," her daughter commented with a grimace.   
  
The ex-slayer chuckled, "Well, I didn't even notice at that time. I couldn't   
believe he was leaving me. He stayed for a little while because we were   
fighting a strong demon and..." she shrugged. "I wouldn't have made it   
without him. Or without Willow, Xander and Giles for that matter."   
  
"What about... Dad?" Joyce asked tentatively, finally getting her hero into   
the story. She knew that her father had once been a demon-hunter and she'd   
always admired him.   
  
"He wasn't in the picture then," her mother answered. "I met him several   
months later. And he was wonderful. Exactly what I needed, exactly the way   
you remember him. Gentle, loving, a friend. But..." She took a deep breath,   
knowing that now was the time for her biggest revelation, hoping that her   
daughter would understand, "It wasn't the same. With Angel it was that   
once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. But we both knew there was no chance. So he   
left and I moved on. With your father. And I couldn't have had a better,   
more loving husband and you had the most wonderful father."   
  
Joyce felt tears welling up in her eyes and gulped, "You... you didn't love   
Dad?" she asked, her voice weak, defeated.   
  
"NO!" her mother replied more sharply than she'd intended. "I did love your   
father. There are different kinds of love, baby. I love you, and Ben, and   
Marlie. Still it isn't the same way I love Willow for example. And I do love   
her. A lot actually. And it's the same with your dad and Angel. I loved your   
dad. And I miss him. I wish he didn't have to die. But that doesn't mean I'm   
going to deny myself the man I loved all my life, now that we have a chance,   
now that he is human."   
  
"But he was a vampire once?" Joyce said, the stubborn look back in her eyes.   
  
Uh-oh, Buffy thought. Her it comes. "Yes," she said cautiously.   
  
"Vampires are killers," her daughter said, "they kill people. Are you going   
to tell me that you want to live with a killer? With a monster."   
  
It was like listening to Riley, Buffy thought sadly, but this was Joyce, not   
Riley, this was her daughter, and Joyce would learn that Angel was   
different. "Angel isn't a monster. He's human now. And even before that, he   
had a soul. That means he didn't kill people. He didn't bite theim,"   
she said, unconsciously touching the scar on her own neck, "On the contrary.   
He protected them. He did the same I was doing. He was fighting the good   
fight."   
  
"Oh sure," Joyce scoffed, and threw her head back.   
  
"It's true," Buffy insisted, looking her daughter in the eye. "I don't   
expect you to love him, Joyce, or even like him. All I want is that you give   
him a chance. Maybe he'll surprise you. And if you still don't like him,   
well, then at least I expect you to treat him with respect."   
  
"With respect? A vampire?" The girl's voice sounded as if that was the most   
ridiculous idea.   
  
"Yes," her mother replied, not letting her daughter's attitude get to her,   
"with respect."   
  
Joyce looked at her mother for a long time, and then finally she took a deep   
breath, "So that means you have decided you want to be with him already?"   
  
"If he'll have me, yes," Buffy said honestly, thinking about Angel, hoping   
that he was all right. She wanted to be with him, hold him, and make all the   
hurt she'd caused him go away.   
  
The teenager nodded, and then tilted her head speculatively, "And what if I   
won't come back then? What if I decide to stay with Willow?"   
  
Buffy pushed the hurt she felt at her daughter's words away. Yesterday after   
Joyce had run from the apartment, she might have gone to her knees and   
promised her daughter everything if she just came back. But not today. Today   
was different. She'd talked to Angel, to Willow and to Giles and had grown   
in 24 hours. "Then," she said, taking a deep breath, "I'll be very sad,   
because I love you, because I want you to live with me and your siblings.   
But I will have to accept it. I love you, baby, and because I do, I will   
always want what's best for you. And if you think, you'd prefer to stay with   
Willow," she shrugged, "then I won't try to keep you where you aren't   
happy."   
  
She looked at her daughter and saw a myriad of emotions play on the girl's   
face. Joyce turned her head away, frowned, bit her lower lip, then after   
what seemed like an eternity, she said, "Okay. I'm coming back home. For   
now," she added, rising her brow, telling her mother with the gesture, that   
the final decision wasn't made today. Couldn't be made today. Still, her   
daughter was reaching out to her and Buffy would gladly take what she could   
get.   
  
"Good," she said simply, but her eyes were moist.   
  
Joyce nodded, but didn't look at her mother. "Is he going to sleep with you   
in yours and Dad's bed?"   
  
Surprised by the question, but understanding what her daughter meant, Buffy   
replied, "If you don't want us to, I can get a new one. I have the feeling   
that Angel wouldn't be opposed at all to the idea. Maybe we'll even move.   
I'm not sure."   
  
Joyce nodded again, and then stood up, put her empty glass in the sink,   
"Okay. But I'm not going to call him 'dad'," she said walking towards the   
door. "Ever."   
  
Buffy looked at her daughter's retreating back, and then sighed in relief.   
It wasn't much of a victory, as far as victories went, but it was a start.   
Now she had one thing left to do, the thing that was most probably the biggest   
challenge, and then she would get the man she wanted.   
  
... to be continued 


	17. Chapter Sixteen: I Want My Life To Be Wi...

Just Human, Chapter 16: I WANT MY LIFE TO BE WITH YOU   
  
Note: The title of this chapter is taken from the BtVS-season 3, episode   
"The Prom", it's not mine.   
  
Buffy's hands tightened around the wheel of her little SUV as she craned her   
neck to see the numbers of the houses. She'd once lived in L.A. and although   
she didn't come often, she didn't need a map to find this certain street.   
But the numbers were sometimes hard to see.   
  
It had been four weeks. Four weeks since Angel had left Sunnydale, four   
weeks since she'd gotten Joyce to move back home with her, four weeks during   
which she'd tried to straighten out her life.   
  
She spent a lot of time talking to Willow and Giles, because she had needed   
friends to listen to her, to get her feelings in order. The conversations   
hadn't been specifically about Angel, although he'd been important in them,   
but there was no doubt inside of her where he was concerned. She loved him,   
and she wanted to be with him.   
  
He had been so right, she mused now, squinting her eyes against the bright   
sunlight. Damn, she'd forgotten her sunglasses. Only yesterday the police   
had returned her driver's license and she'd been so excited about going to   
L.A. that she'd forgotten to take them with her. Angel had been right, that   
afternoon in his motel room. She needed time. Not only to get things right   
with Joyce, but first and foremost she needed to confront her own feelings.   
  
Her past.   
  
Riley.   
  
Talking about her feelings had only been the first step. Admitting to   
herself that she hadn't loved him, at least not the way she should have, had   
been a start.   
  
After a week of crying a lot at night, and trying to figure out what to do   
during the day, she'd started to sort through his things, much to Joyce's   
distaste. But Buffy had ignored her accusing looks, and continued her work.   
All of Riley's clothes were now donated to the Red Cross, she'd given his   
books to Joyce and also her wedding ring was now dangling from a chain on   
her daughter's neck. Buffy knew that Joyce did it to provoke her. Joyce   
wanted to remind her that she didn't agree with what she was doing, but the   
ex-slayer let it go for now.   
  
Buffy hit the breaks and parked her car when she saw the apartment Angel was   
living in. It had been hard work squeezing the address out of Cordelia. The   
former cheerleader had been outright hostile at first, accusing Buffy of   
doing nothing but hurting Angel, but by talking to her and - she had to   
admit - the help of her husband she had finally given in. Wesley had changed   
so much over the years that Buffy was truly amazed. And their children, both   
of Asian ancestry, were just adorable. They had parted with a promise to   
meet again so that the children could get to know each other.   
  
The ex-slayer slammed her car door shut and locked it, then took a deep   
breath and walked towards the door. Angel was living in the outskirts of   
L.A. now, and, according to Cordelia, rented a nice little apartment there   
and was trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his human life. The   
first months he spent in Washington, closing the office they'd used for over   
ten years and closing up open cases, which had been difficult enough with   
him being human now and as a result not having any more vampire strength.   
  
After losing her hostility towards Buffy, Cordelia had been a fountain of   
information, Buffy remembered with a fond smile, while she was walking   
towards Angel's house. The ex-slayer knew now that Angel had woken up one   
morning with a heartbeat. That he had a thing for chocolate. And that there   
had never been anything serious with a woman since he'd left Sunnydale over   
20 years ago.   
  
Cordelia even told Buffy about Darla, although the blond had the feeling   
that there was more the story than the brunette had been willing to tell.   
She hadn't asked any further, too stunned to hear about the fact that   
Angel's sire had returned a second time, after almost driving him insane,   
and that Angel had finally staked her. Buffy had already known about Darla's   
first return, Angel had told her all about it, during a night they had spent   
beside her mother's grave. It was the last time - she remembered - when   
they'd been close.   
  
Until - of course - that morning in her apartment, when her revelation that   
she'd never been in love with Riley that had spiraled into something   
incredibly beautiful. Something Buffy hadn't expected to ever experience   
again. Yet it had happened, and instead of holding it as tight as she could,   
she'd let her guilt rule her life and pushed Angel away.   
  
But no more, she vowed while she took the steps that led to his apartment.   
She wouldn't lose him again, not when she could prevent it. He'd told her   
she had to find a way to live with her past. Well, now here she was, ready   
to begin a new part of her life, with him.   
  
Still, her heart beat in her chest like a drum when she rang the bell and   
after a moment heard footsteps approaching from the inside.   
  
"Buffy?" he said in that almost breathless, sweet, very-Angel way, as if he   
couldn't believe she was really there. Which, she mused, was probably true.   
  
"Hi, Angel," she replied and tried to plaster a smile on her face. But it   
was difficult, when she wanted to drown in his dark eyes, wanted nothing   
more than to rip his clothes away and ravish him on the spot. She hadn't even   
realised how she'd missed him until now.   
  
"Wh-" he began, but had to clear his throat. She thought it was comforting   
that he seemed equally nervous. "What are you doing here? How did you get my   
address?"   
  
"Cordelia," she said, answering his last question first. "It took some   
serious persuading, but in the end she told me."   
  
"Really?" Angel asked, raising a brow, then made an inviting gesture and   
closed the door after she'd stepped over the threshold. "I have to admit I'm   
surprised. Cordelia can be quite... uh... adamant in her protection of   
friends," he grinned. "When I came back from Sunnydale, she tried to   
convince me that you were the wrong woman for me and the embodiment of evil.   
'Angel, you don't know, maybe she's possessed by some demon. She was the   
slayer after all', he mimicked the brunette and they both laughed.   
  
When the laughter faded, silence settled over the living room and Buffy looked   
around. It was a nice apartment as far as she could see. It had enough   
space, and large windows to allow the sunlight in. Something that was   
probably very important for a man who had lived in the darkness for so long.   
"It's nice," she said finally, gesturing at her surroundings. "Cordelia   
already told me it was nice."   
  
He chuckled, "She should. She chose it for me. I was in Washington wrapping   
up open cases, closing the office and stuff. She said after working with me   
for more than 20 years she knew my taste better than I did. She... was very   
specific about it," he added and grinned, remembering Cordelia with her   
hands on her hips, daring him to doubt she knew his taste. 'After all,'   
she'd said, 'I would have no problems finding a woman for you. How about   
delicate, blond, leaning towards violent?' He'd glared at her, he   
remembered, but Cordelia had snickered.   
  
This time the silence was more awkward. There wasn't much more small talk   
they could make, and Buffy felt suddenly uncertain. She wanted Angel, but   
what if he had decided he was better off without her? "So," she said the   
very same moment, when he said the same. They laughed slightly, awkwardly.   
  
"You came," Angel stated, "So I assume you made a decision?"   
  
Was she imagining it, or was there a quiver in his voice, a slight tremble?   
God, she hoped so, because at the moment she had the feeling she would   
embarrass herself terribly. "I... I have," she replied, trying to swallow.   
But her mouth was so dry it was impossible. "Joyce moved back home," she   
said, "I told her, that I would leave the choice to her, but that I wouldn't   
deny myself to be with you."   
  
She bit her lower lip, not daring to look at him, not knowing what to   
expect.   
  
"God, Buffy," he said roughly, and then she was in his arms, and he was   
holding her close. "These past weeks were the longest I can remember.   
Waiting for you to make the first step, damned to just wait."   
  
She felt his lips on her skull, felt his hands on her back and tears were   
springing to her eyes. This time they were tears of joy, "I know," she   
whispered hoarsely, "I know. I'm sorry. But you were right. I needed to time   
to close that chapter of my life. There was no way I could just jump on the   
train, so to speak."   
  
"Yes," she felt him nod against her hair, then his chin rested on her head,   
his arms holding her tight and secure to him, "And now you're sure?"   
  
"Yes," she replied, slightly pulling back so that she was able to look at   
him. "I'm sure. I gave all of Riley's things away," she admitted on a slight   
smile. "See," she held up her hand, "I don't even wear his ring anymore.   
Joyce has it now. Of course she's wearing it to provoke me. She's still   
angry. And I should warn you, Riley told her a lot about vampires. And she's   
got all his strange ideas about them all being evil."   
  
"Well technically..." he began, but trailed off. Sighing he kissed her   
gently on the forehead, "I know what you mean. We'll take it one day at the   
time."   
  
"But what about," she looked around, "your apartment? I can't leave   
Sunnydale, not with the kids at school there and-"   
  
"You're thinking too much. Buffy, I'm free to do whatever I want. I'm not   
bound by a job so far. I have no problem living in Sunnydale. Somehow it's   
like going home." He smiled slightly. "I missed it. Not just because of you.   
But because it was where I got my start back to myself."   
  
"I'm glad," she sighed, snuggling close. "I even got rid of my old bed," she   
told him and smiled when she heard him chuckle.   
  
"I can't say I'm sorry," he retorted. "I have to admit it was kind of   
awkward to do it where you and Riley... you know."   
  
"I'll bet," she grinned now. "Joyce was all for it. She asked if I intended   
to sleep in the same bed with you where I did with her dad."   
  
He raised an amused brow. "You talked with her about having sex with me?"   
  
She blushed, "Not really. It was more about sleeping in general. But I think   
she's old enough to get the drift. Besides, she already saw us in bed   
together." Leaning her forehead against his chest, she groaned, "It's kind   
of strange to think about your daughter as a sexual person. I can understand   
very well now how my mom felt when she found out I was seeing you."   
  
"Not to forget how the demon told her about our first time," he only   
half-joked.   
  
"Don't remind me," she groaned again, but chuckled too. "Thinking back, she   
was really cool about it. I have to admire her for it now."   
  
"So Joyce doesn't like vampires, huh?" he asked after a moment. "I can't say   
I blame her. I don't particularly like them myself."   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes at him, "Look who's talking."   
  
"I had a soul," he reminded her.   
  
"Yeah, I know," she said, fondly stroking his cheek. "Joyce never comes out   
of her room when Spike drops... ooops," she smiled sheepishly when she saw   
his eyes widen. "Wrong name?"   
  
"Spike?" he pulled back, to stare at her as if she'd gone mad. "What do you   
mean Spike drops... by?"   
  
Buffy sighed and then took a deep breath, "It's sort of a tradition, I   
guess. It started after the Hellmouth was closed. You remember him helping   
us?" When she saw Angel nod, although reluctantly, she went on, "Well, after   
the Hellmouth closed he was probably the only vampire who didn't leave   
Sunnydale. Probably because he didn't fit into the vampire community   
anymore, not with that chip in his head."   
  
She saw the glimmer of amusement in Angel's eyes and sent him a glare, "He   
really helped us, you know," she came to the blond vampire's defense. "And   
then there was nothing more for him to do. Besides," she stopped, and her   
lips twitched, "annoying Riley."   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Riley got really mad that Spike dropped by and Spike loved it."   
  
"Not really surprising," Angel commented. "Spike was always good at annoying   
people."   
  
"Not to forget that Riley was part of the organization that put the chip in   
his head. After the Hellmouth closed, Spike disappeared for a while. Only   
later he admitted he'd tried to find someone who would remove the chip. When   
that didn't work out, he came back. And soon, he came regularly. We do it   
once a month now and as strange as it sounds it's fun. Well, it wasn't for   
the last six months, but usually it was. Except one time, when..." she   
trailed off, suddenly realizing what she'd almost revealed.   
  
But of course Angel wouldn't let her off the hook easily, "What time?" he   
asked, his eyes narrowing and she thought he suspected Spike had tried to   
hurt her. "What did he do?"   
  
If she hadn't been so ashamed of her one time lapse, she would have laughed.   
Angel was human now, but the way he was talking could only be described as   
pure sire-childe attitude. He might not have made Spike in the strictest   
sense, but loony-tunes Drusilla certainly hadn't taught the blond vampire   
what he had to know and Spike had more than once referred to Angelus as his   
true Sire.   
  
Taking a deep breath she looked at Angel, "It was after a party. Shortly   
after Ben was born and I had a bit too much to drink. We were celebrating   
Willow and Tara's marriage. And then things... uh... got a bit out of hand.   
To make a long story short, Willow found me and Spike engaged in a heated   
kiss."   
  
"What?" Angel yelped.   
  
"Calm down," she replied, stifling a grin. It wasn't the right time to grin.   
Angel looked ready for murder. "It wasn't serious. I had a... uh... I wasn't   
very happy that time. Probably some kind of postnatal depression," she   
shrugged and sighed, "Who knows? I... I missed you," she admitted finally.   
"And Spike was the closest I could get to you. He is related to you in some   
twisted way and he's... God, I can't even believe I'm saying this, but he's   
cold."   
  
"Cold?"   
  
"Yes, no body heat. And when I closed my eyes and kissed him, I could   
imagine... for a moment I made myself believe..." she broke off, giving   
Angel a desperate look. "I felt so horrible afterwards. Riley had given me   
so much and I... I... couldn't stop thinking of you."   
  
"Oh Baby," he wrapped her in his arms again. "God, we're some pair of fools.   
I was so lonely at times and knowing that you can never have what you really   
want. For a time I even tried to imagine Cordelia and I..."   
  
"What?" This time it was Buffy who screeched incredulously.   
  
He grinned, "Nothing happened. Cordelia looked at me as if I'd finally grown   
a third head. No way she said. No way I'm going to think about a dead body   
that way. But she's a good friend. Maybe the best I ever had."   
  
She sighed deeply, "Seems we both got... uh... sidetracked."   
  
"Yeah," she felt him smiling at her forehead. Then suddenly he got serious   
and pulled back. "I think we should get married," he said and looked down on   
her.   
  
"What?" She stared at him. Marriage? Not that she hadn't thought about it,   
or dreamed of it. But could it work? On the other hand, living together was   
technically the same thing, wasn't it? And she'd dreamt about marrying Angel   
longer than she could remember.   
  
Holding her close with one arm around her waist, he used his free hand to   
tilt her head back. "We can't change what happened in the past, Buffy. It's   
done. All we can do now is choose how to live with it - whether we're going   
to let it rule the rest of our lives or if we're going to put it behind us   
and move on. The way I see it, we don't really have a choice. We can all be   
hurt and angry, and we can suffer, or we can deal. We can be alone and   
unhappy, 'atone for our guilt', or we can make a future for ourselves. We   
can make a home for Joyce, Ben, Marlie and maybe one or two more, if you   
want. We can be a family."   
  
"A family," she mused dreamily, smiling up at him.   
  
Pulling her closer until their bodies were intimately connecting, he   
grinned, "We could start right now," he said, grinning, pulling her even closer,   
letting her feel his erection. Growing more solemn again, he   
raised a brow, "So? What's your answer?"   
  
Her bright smile was enough of an answer, but she still felt it necessary to   
say, "Yes, Angel. I'll marry you. I'll marry you and love you forever and   
ever."   
  
He kissed her then, and without a doubt Buffy knew it was the right   
decision.   
  
*   
  
When Buffy woke several hours later, she glanced at the bedside clock and   
then at a sleeping Angel. Her legs felt a bit weak, she realized when she   
moved them under the sheet, but she also felt like flying. There was no   
guilt, no regret and the idea of marrying Angel felt like the most wonderful   
thing on this planet. He had been her first lover. And if she had any say in   
it, he would also be her last.   
  
His bare body was long, hard, and perfect. It was amazing to her how   
different they were physically, how perfectly they fit together. Her body   
began to tremble at the memory of just how perfect it had been.   
  
Leaning over she kissed him on the cheek, "Wake up, sleepyhead," she   
whispered, nuzzling at his earlobe.   
  
He blinked and then his arm snaked around her and held her to him, "I had   
the most wonderful dream," he sighed.   
  
"Yeah?" she grinned playfully.   
  
"Oh yeah. There was this blond woman in my apartment, and she told me she   
was going to marry me."   
  
"Oh that woman," she said, still grinning, "she left about an hour ago."   
  
"You," he growled and with a swift movement, pinned her under his body   
weight. "Don't make jokes about a serious matter," he warned, and she   
noticed he was only half joking. He was afraid she would change her mind.   
"You are going to marry me, aren't you?"   
  
"Oh, Angel," knowing her eyes had grown moist, but not caring, she cupped a   
cheek in one of her palms, "Of course I am. I love you, I'm not going away."   
  
"I love you too," he replied, kissing her deeply, "I can hardly wait."   
  
"Me neither," she said, smiling up into his eyes that were filled with so   
much love it almost took her breath away. Still smiling, she said, "I found   
your letter, you know."   
  
He drew his brows together, "What letter?"   
  
"The one you wrote to Riley," she answered, and held him when she felt him   
trying to draw back. "It's okay," she whispered.   
  
"You... you're not angry?"   
  
"I was. For about five minutes," she admitted. "I thought, that jerk, who   
does he think he is, to interfere with my life?" Seeing the sudden guilt in   
his eyes made her heart ache and she continued quickly, "But it changed   
after that. I read the letter again and again and realized that it had been   
a gift of love. Like the fact that you never told me about your Shanshu."   
  
His mouth was dry, "Who... who told you?"   
  
"Giles. Obviously Wesley told him one day. I still don't like it, that you   
didn't tell me, but I understand why you did it. If I'd been in your place I   
probably would've done the exact same thing. By the way, the letter you   
wrote was beautiful. And I realized you really thought at that time that I   
loved Riley, didn't you?"   
  
He shrugged, "You told me, you loved him. So I assumed it was true. I   
should've known you only said it to hurt me, but then," he smiled a bit   
sheepishly, "I was so jealous, I couldn't think straight."   
  
"I like you all possessive," she teased, pulling his head down to her and   
kissing him thoroughly. "God," she sighed, "And I love the way you kiss. I   
crave it."   
  
"Is that true?" he asked, raising a brow. "Well, Madam, I can deliver that   
any time."   
  
"Good," she whispered. "Kiss me, Angel. Kiss me, and never let go."   
  
"Your wish is my command," he replied before his lips made any talk   
impossible.   
  
... to be continued 


	18. Epilogue: Family and Other Annoying Crea...

Just Human, Epilogue: FAMILY AND OTHER ANNOYING CREATURES   
  
Joyce Finn closed her eyes in disgust for a moment, before she continued   
flipping through a magazine she wasn't really reading. Looking up she sighed   
seeing the packed boxes standing around her bed, she lay sprawled on her   
stomach. Her family would move to a new house the day after tomorrow.   
  
Family, she snorted. What a family? Her "family" was two younger siblings who   
didn't understand a thing, and a mother who was busy with her new lover, who   
happened to be an ex-vampire.   
  
Of course calling it busy was the understatement of the century. They were all   
over each other.   
  
All the time.   
  
Was it really surprising that she felt like throwing up most of the time?   
How could her mother let this... this thing touch her? Especially after   
she'd been with her father for so long. Of course Angel had been her   
mother's first lover, but Joyce quickly put that piece of information away,   
not willing to even go there.   
  
They were in the bedroom again. Of course they were in the bedroom most of   
the time, so it wasn't a surprise. Did they do anything besides screw each   
other, she wondered? But silently she'd been asking herself again and again   
if it was really that good. She couldn't remember ever having seen her   
mother that crazy with her father. Part of her hated it. The other part was   
immensely curious. They only had to look at each other, in that special, and of   
course thoroughly disgusting, sort of way and then it was, like, 'we'll be busy   
for a while, Joyce. Can you take care of Marlie for the next hour?'   
  
Hadn't she already said they were *busy* most of the time?   
  
And now they had even announced they were going to have a baby. Sheesh. Her   
mother was forty for goodness' sake. Wasn't there an age limit for that kind   
of behavior? Forty-year-old women didn't get pregnant. There had to be some   
law. Certainly there was a law that forbade ex-vampires to have kids. Of   
course, there was still that tiny little problem that they would probably   
lock her up, Joyce thought. In some asylum for mentally disabled.   
  
Nobody had believed vampires were real when they were around all the time, who   
would believe it now, when most of them had left Sunnydale for good.   
  
Of course, Ben and Marlie were ecstatic about the news, Ben already planning   
how to care for his little brother. Gee, one would think this was the   
greatest news this side of the Pacific Ocean. Her mother and Angel certainly   
thought it was. He couldn't stop touching Buffy, Joyce had more than once   
found him touching her mother's belly, and there had been that silly look on   
his face. That dreamy smile. He was almost nice when he smiled that way.   
Stop it, she told herself firmly, no way she would get all mushy now and   
forget that she really despised Angel.   
  
True to her word, she was behaving well around him. She even talked to him,   
but she would never like him. Not ever. Of course he had a nice smile,   
especially when he was with either Marlie or Ben and when they were beaming   
up at him as if he'd hung the sky. Hadn't she said it? Disgusting.   
  
Suddenly there was a muffled groan and another, deeper voice shouting   
something. Joyce was almost certain it had been her mother's name. Groaning   
herself, she let her head fall on her bed. Her stepfather had been a   
vampire. The man her mother was married to and was doing the nasty thing   
with. Could her life get worse?   
  
*****   
  
"This time you were the loud one," Buffy scolded, but smiled at her husband,   
who was lying beside her, one of his hands stroking her belly in lazy   
circles.   
  
"I couldn't help it," he said, but there wasn't a hint of apology in his   
voice. "Besides, Joyce is the only one around and she already knows what's   
going on when you tell her we'll be busy for an hour."   
  
"What?" propping herself up on an elbow, she stared at him. "You are talking   
about my underage daughter you know."   
  
"Besides," he went on, ignoring her comment with a grin, "you're pregnant,"   
he said, emphasizing the last word by resting the palm of his hand over   
their unborn child. His hand was so large it almost covered the whole space   
between her hipbones. "Joyce had sex Ed in school. You told me that. She has   
to know where babies come from."   
  
Rolling her eyes at Angel, Buffy fell back on the pillow, "Still, it's kinda   
embarrassing don't you think? To know that she might be sitting in her room,   
trying to cover her ears. Girls at her age don't think of their parents as   
sexual people. I clearly remember when my mom was dating Ted."   
  
"Who?" he asked, but then he remembered, "Oh, the robot guy. The one you   
couldn't stand."   
  
"Yeah, you said I should give him a chance." She sighed, "Anyways. The   
mere thought of my mother being with a guy, any guy, who wasn't my dad... It   
was hard to accept. I hated Ted, even before I knew he wasn't what he seemed   
to be. And when I found out he was a robot, I was really glad."   
  
"So what you're telling me with this walk down memory lane, is, that you   
understand the problems Joyce is having with you and me? Buffy, I know it's   
still a long way, maybe she won't ever accept me completely. But she'll   
arrange herself. In a few years she's going to live her own life. She can't   
expect her mother to live the rest of her life on her own, just to please   
her. And I think she's realized that already."   
  
"Yeah," she leaned towards him, and kissed him softly. "I know. But-"   
  
The very same moment the doorbell rang and Buffy returned Angel's raised   
brow with a certain panic in her eyes.   
  
"What?" he asked.   
  
"Spike," she yelped, slipping from the bed and searching for her clothes.   
  
"Spike?" Angel sat up in bed when it hit him. "Spike." With a pained groan   
his head fell back on the pillow. "God, I think I'm doomed."   
  
*   
  
"Tell me, slayer," Spike drawled from his position on the sofa, "Are you   
feeling happy, all married and living with soul-boy?"   
  
"What do you think?" Buffy asked back, not bothering to look at him. She was   
standing in the kitchen to get some coffee ready, while Spike had already   
found his favorite place.   
  
"You look good," he commented, "So I'd say it's a safe bet, that you're all   
over the moon."   
  
She grinned when she came back to the living room, holding a tray loaded   
with cups, coffee, some cookies and Spike's favorite marshmallows. His eyes   
lit up at the sight of them, "Oh, the little white ones. I'd like to kiss   
you, slayer. Maybe we should. It would annoy the hell out of my grand-sire."   
  
"Yes, or you could just be dust in a second," Angel said casually when he   
joined them in the room. Buffy noticed he'd been particularly careful with   
his clothes tonight. It was the first time he and Spike met after the   
wedding, the first time they met in close quarters, so to say, and she   
couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about it. Granted, most of the stuff   
was already in boxes, as they would soon move into the new house they bought   
near Willow's, but the furniture was almost new and Buffy didn't care for   
crashed tables or broken cups.   
  
"Empty threats," Spike grinned at his grand-sire, not quite sure if he   
should be pissed because Angel had managed to get back into the slayer's   
pants or glad that Buffy looked that much better and hadn't touched so much   
as a drop of alcohol over the last four months.   
  
"You think?" Angel raised a brow and there was something in his eyes that   
made Spike frown, Joyce noticed when she came to the living room as well.   
  
"Can I have some hot chocolate?" she asked her mother.   
  
"Sure, sweetie," Buffy replied and turned for the kitchen again. "You too,   
Spike?"   
  
"Thanks, Slayer. Yeah." Then he suddenly tilted his head, and his eyes   
widened. "I didn't notice it before, with all the noise in the room, but I   
could swear I heard five heartbeats."   
  
"Mom's pregnant," Joyce told him. "Don't you think she's too old for another   
child?" she asked the vampire.   
  
"Joyce!" came Buffy's sharp voice from the kitchen.   
  
The girl rolled her eyes and caught Spike's gaze. "Don't ask me, kid," he   
said. "I might look younger than your mother, but I hardly am. So I'm not   
really the age-expert around. Maybe we should ask if it's allowed that some   
250 odd years old guy should father a child."   
  
"Careful," Angel warned softly, oh so softly, and Spike felt a shiver run   
down his spine. Damn, if Angel hadn't just sounded exactly like Angelus.   
Obviously by turning human you didn't lose your ability to threaten innocent   
vampires. But then, he was hardly innocent, Spike thought with glee.   
  
"Your step daddy," he said, grinning at Joyce, ignoring that she didn't   
really like him, even hated him, "went all soft at a certain point, you   
know. While me and Dru," he sighed deeply, "Well, you could say that we were   
feared allover this planet. We had quite a reputation."   
  
"God save me from a vampire with an attitude," Angel groaned, turning away   
from his annoying grand-childe.   
  
"Oh, and that coming from the master of the attitude. That's rich," Spike   
shot back, not backing down.   
  
Joyce looked back and forth between the two men, inwardly wincing at calling   
the vampire a man, "You don't like each other a lot, huh?" she asked,   
sensing an unexpected ally in Angel. She didn't like him, she reminded   
herself quickly, but if she had to choose she would take him any day. Her   
father had hated Spike, and Joyce would never forget that.   
  
Spike had no problems following her train of thought, "Don't even think it,   
kid," he said. "He made me. He's responsible for what I am."   
  
"I never *made* you," Angel bit back. "No vampire in his right mind would've   
chosen this sorry excuse for a poet as his childe. Angelus might have been a   
crazy bastard, but he had his standards after all. Only someone like Dru   
could be blind enough not to see that you wouldn't make an impressive   
vampire."   
  
"WHOA!" Buffy shouted coming back from the kitchen, holding the two cups of   
cocoa in both her hands. "Time out. I don't want this here. I might not be a   
slayer anymore, and for that can't kick your ass, but you stop it now.   
Spike, Angel will be in my life, so you better get used to him," she turned   
to her lover who gave his grand-childe a smug grin, "and Angel, Spike is my   
friend. You have to accept that."   
  
"Some friend," Angel muttered. "An evil, bloodsucking-"   
  
"Not one more word," Buffy warned and when she caught Spike grinning this   
time, she glared at him. "And I mean both of you."   
  
"I'm not saying anything," Spike chirped.   
  
"You better. My teenage daughter is in the room. She doesn't need this   
testosterone competition."   
  
The teenage daughter in question had followed the exchange with a growing   
interest. And especially her mother's forceful reaction had been something   
Joyce would've never expected. "Uh... actually... I thought it was kinda...   
cute."   
  
"Huh?" Three voices said unison while three pairs of eyes shifted in her   
direction, making her feel uncomfortable all of a sudden.   
  
"Gee," she rolled her eyes. "I never saw two vamps have a fight before. I   
was really looking forward to it." Plus she made a definite mental note that   
Angel really didn't like Spike. You never knew when you could use that sort   
of knowledge.   
  
Buffy sighed, "Joyce, Angel isn't a vampire anymore, meaning he doesn't   
vampire-strength anymore. So he wouldn't be able to fight Spike." She saw   
the blond vampire grin smugly and went on, "And Spike has a chip in his   
head. He couldn't beat Angel even if he wanted to. He's," she shrugged,   
"neutered. Sort of."   
  
"HEY!" Spike's head jerked around and he glared at her. "No insults please.   
And besides. You even married the jerk who put this thing in my head." The   
moment the words had left his mouth, he knew it had been a mistake and he   
already groaned inwardly at the reaction that of course came instantly.   
  
"Really?" Joyce smiled broadly at him. "Dad put that thing in your head?"   
  
"Not in the strictest sense," Buffy amended Spike's words. "But yeah. He was   
part of the team that captured Spike and brought him in so that they could   
implant the chip."   
  
"Wow," the girl looked at the vampire in awe.   
  
Spike narrowed his eyes and was about to give her a reply, but he caught   
Buffy's warning gaze and gathered that telling Joyce about some gory details   
of her father's past, like his preference for vampire whores, wouldn't be a   
wise move at the moment. He shut his mouth with a loud click and cursed   
inwardly when he saw his grand-sire grinning smugly again. Darn slayer. Why   
on earth did she have the hots for someone like Angel? God, he hated the   
bugger. On the other hand, "Did you ever tell Buffy about the way you went   
groiny with Darla?" he asked, looking his grand-sire straight in the eye.   
  
He looked back the same way, "Buffy knows what happened with Darla."   
  
Joyce, who had been on her way to her room, stopped in the doorway and   
turned around. Darla? Another woman? That might have possibilities.   
  
"Yes, she does," the ex-slayer interrupted, "and she's in the room, so you   
can also speak with her."   
  
"Oh really?" Spike raised a brow, ignoring the blond, "And does she also   
know that your sire filed a paternity suit against you?"   
  
"WHAT?" Buffy asked stunned. A paternity suit? Darla? Against Angel? But   
Angel was-   
  
"How do you know about that?" she heard her husband ask his grand-childe.   
  
"I was traveling around. Came across Dru again. She always liked to talk."   
  
"I see," Angel narrowed his eyes at Spike and for a moment the blond vampire   
considered the possibility that he was going to leave this apartment tonight   
in a nice little urn. Angel sighed, and turned towards Buffy, who was watching   
him expectantly, but in her eyes he saw nothing but trust and it warmed him   
deep inside.   
  
"Darla came back a while after she'd left," he said. "She was a vampire   
then, but she was pregnant." When he saw Buffy's eyes widen in surprise, he   
nodded, "Yeah, I thought the same. It wasn't possible. Boy, did I look funny   
when one day a paternity suit landed on my desk. It was of course filed by   
Wolfram & Hart who were - surprise, surprise her lawyers again."   
  
Buffy nodded. She remembered Angel telling her about the evil law firm, and   
also Darla's connection with them.   
  
"After a little bit of research, we found out that the baby she was carrying   
was human. A little bit more research told us that some wizard had used a   
spell to make the pregnancy possible. We also found out that the father of   
the baby was a human lawyer who had once been with Wolfram & Hart. We tried   
to find him, but we failed."   
  
He sighed again, smiled when Buffy took his hand, "I offered to take care of   
the baby, but refused to be called its biological father. To make a long   
story short, Darla disappeared when the paternity test proved I wasn't the   
father. She actually believed I was the father, but the wizard obviously   
betrayed her. He couldn't make a vampire fertile. We never found out how the   
baby survived the fact that Darla had syphilis, but where magic is involved   
it's always hard to know what's possible or not.   
  
"Later we found out that Darla had given birth to the baby, then killed it   
right after," he had to take a deep breath to continue his story. Everyone   
had forgotten about Joyce still standing in the doorway, but she was   
listening intently. "When I met her again, I staked her and made sure that   
nothing of her was left to resurrect her a second time.   
  
"The good thing in all this, however, was that by searching for Darla we   
came across information that resulted in the downfall of Wolfram & Hart.   
There were several disks and we gave them to a friend of ours who has a   
computer company in L.A. His specialists - you could call them hacker -   
planted a virus in Wolfram & Hart's system and like magic all their files   
disappeared. Their stocks were worth less a penny within a day."   
  
"That's quite a story," Buffy said and squeezed his hand.   
  
"She... she really killed her own baby?" Joyce asked suddenly from the   
doorway.   
  
Her mother gasped only now realizing that her daughter had heard everything.   
Squeezing her hand, Angel turned towards the girl, "Yes, she did. But she   
was a vampire. A demon controlled her body at that time. It was her nature   
to kill."   
  
"Joyce, honey," Buffy walked towards her daughter, but the teenager held up   
her hand.   
  
"No, it's okay," she said, taking a deep, steadying breath. "And you killed   
her?" she asked Angel.   
  
"Yes, I did."   
  
"He killed her before. To save my life. But some people resurrected her with   
magic," Buffy added.   
  
Joyce gulped, suddenly seeing Angel with new eyes, "I once read about Sires   
and their childer," she said then, "quite a lot actually. In one of Giles'   
books. I was there with Mom and got bored so I went through his stacks. It   
said that their bond is... unbreakable."   
  
"Not bloody likely," Spike muttered, thinking about Dru who had dumped him   
without mercy, and about Angelus, the vampire he had admired like a God and who   
abandoned him with his loony Sire and Darla, whom he despised.   
  
"It's very strong," Angel replied, ignoring Spike's muttered comment.   
"Turning against your sire isn't something that usually happens with   
vampires. But I wasn't vampire like she was when I killed her. I had a soul.   
That's different." He spoke slowly, his voice gentle. It was the first time   
that Joyce had asked about him being a vampire, and he wasn't about to let   
the opportunity pass to get closer to her. And if Spike intervened, well,   
he could always stake him. And not lose a second of sleep over it.   
  
"I was an evil vampire before," he continued, "but when I got my soul back,   
everything changed. I cared. I couldn't kill somebody, and just live on as   
nothing had happened. It's not so easy when you still have a raging demon   
inside of you. A demon you have to fight every step of the way."   
  
Joyce nodded, and her eyes flickered towards Spike, then back to Angel.   
Swallowing hard, she tried a tiny smile, "Maybe," she said after a moment,   
"we could talk some more in the near future?"   
  
"I would like that," Angel replied and smiled as well. It wasn't much. She   
wasn't throwing her arms around him and welcoming him in the family, but for   
a first step, he thought, it wasn't bad. He smiled when Buffy took his hand   
and pulled her in his arms, and grinned when he saw Spike roll his eyes.   
"Some more cocoa?," he asked him with a wink.   
  
*   
  
"You are a wicked man," Buffy said an hour later, after Spike had left, they   
were sitting on the sofa, the blond curled up in Angel's lap.   
  
"You think?" he asked and raised a brow.   
  
"You know what I mean. You don't have to tease Spike that way. He doesn't   
have it easy."   
  
"Buffy, chip or no, Spike's still evil, he can live with it. He won't break   
because of it," Angel replied, kissing the tip of her nose.   
  
"One day I want to know why you both hate each other like that," she said   
suddenly, and leaned her head on his shoulder. "There is a lot I want to   
know of your life."   
  
"No way," he retorted firmly. "And as for Spike hating me. It's more   
complicated, more twisted. I think most of all he hated the fact that I   
suddenly had a soul and couldn't be what he wanted me to anymore. His Sire.   
Someone he could look up to. He never got along with Darla. And Dru," he   
sighed sadly, "Angelus made sure she hadn't one sane marble left in her   
mind. I should've staked her, but I could never bring myself to."   
  
"Here comes the guilt again," Buffy said, kissing his jaw. "But we have both   
learned to live with it."   
  
"Yes, we have," he agreed and tilted her head up to kiss her properly. "And   
soon," he placed his hand on her stomach, "we'll have a baby to care for.   
And I really liked the way Joyce was opening up just before."   
  
"I'm glad," Buffy smiled, "She's been really difficult, thanks to Riley's   
narrow-minded view of things. That's one thing we never agreed on. If it was   
for him, we could've staked Spike on the spot."   
  
"Maybe we would've been friends after all," Angel muttered and his wife   
slapped him playfully. He grinned, "Spike is annoying," he said.   
  
"Yes, he is. But he helped a lot. He's family in a twisted sort of way. And   
he'll be thrilled by the baby," she went on, missing the slightly panicked   
look in her husband's eyes, "He loves kids. He's a great babysitter, and-"   
  
"No way," Angel interrupted her firmly and made her look at him. "I'm not   
going to let him care for my baby. No way. Uh-uh. Absolutely not."   
  
"But, Angel-"   
  
"No way," he said again, planting a hard kiss on her mouth. "I love you, but   
not ever."   
  
"Come on, Angel," she drawled and began to unbutton his shirt, while she   
planted a kiss on his throat.   
  
He groaned, "Buffy," he hissed, feeling the heat spreading through him like   
a fire, "I won't give in. Spike is not going to watch our baby."   
  
"We'll see," she said with a throaty voice that made his head spin. "Kiss   
me, Angel."   
  
"If you think you can persuade me, that Spike is harmless, by seducing...   
God Buffy," he yelped, when her hand traveled down and inside his pants.   
  
"Is it working?" she asked, tracing his lips with her tongue.   
  
"No," he replied, but his voice was weak. He sucked in a sharp breath when   
he felt her hand closing around his shaft. Forgetting about Spike and   
everything, he pulled her mouth to his and claimed her lips in a passionate   
kiss. "Buffy," he managed.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Stop talking," he growled.   
  
In response she giggled, glad that Marlie and Ben were spending the night   
with Xander's kids. And that Joyce was old enough to know when to stay in   
her room.   
  
*   
  
Joyce closed her door firmly when she heard the moan coming from the living   
room. She shook her head at the images that were rushing through her mind.   
But for the first time, a smile played around her lips.   
  
  
END   
  
  
That's it. The end. For now. Well, if you want a sequel, that is. Tell me what   
you thought of the story and if you would like to read more in that universe. I   
would love to hear what you think. 


End file.
